He passed me by –
Gaunt and with tired eyes,
A shuffling gait,
Down the hot pavement aimlessly.

An eddying wind
Stirred sundry garbage at the kerb,
He paused, retrieved a cigarette, half smoked
And shuffled on.

The same adversity, it would appear,
That makes some men grow strong,
Makes others weak
And weaker men to sneer and ridicule.

So, where you go, my friend
Go with my thoughts.
This much I owe and more to one
Who fills the role that I might well have filled
Were fate less kind.

And though the search for knowledge spurs me on
Through joy and pathos, and in places grim,
No man ever yet has passed me by
And I not learned from him.

‘The Derelict’ by Stanley Wade, a dear friends grandfather who has taken his advice deeply and lives by this

and another Stanley – a highly respected SAS officer –
literally painted such a scene that impacted me deeply last century!

my pic