Flame

It is a stubborn, harsh breath drawn against the cold
A puff of mist like cigar smoke twirls from his chapped lips
He continues to walk, an unclean, undefinite, ambiguous shuffle
And a cough that I am sure sounds familiar
Perhaps a childhood memory or a dream?
Down the darkened streets, empty at this time
Children tucked away fast asleep and parents dozing happily by the
fire
While he shivers in the cold against locked doors
Still shuffling, coughing louder now, as if to hide embarrassment
With his scrawny and hunched demeanor he lifts the latch
And takes a definitive path as if he'd known his way all his life
While the swirling mist and fog at his feet hide any trace of life or
movement
And suddenly he stops, looking upwards to the cloudy sky,
And without any hesitation notices a star shining through, the
reflection glinting in his eyes
Smiling, he stoops to drop a humble gathering of wild daisies and lets
them fall to the grave
And, still smiling, turns to retrace his steps
The light of the faint star ever flaming in his eyes.