twenty-seven garbage bins

I saw you on the corner there, your coat was old and gray,
I thought to stop and say hello, but I went on my way,
Passed twenty-seven garbage bins before I realized,
I knew your face, it hit me, with a shock and a surprise,
I'd seen you once, so long ago, back when your hair was brown,
and you had stopped and said hello, and wiped away a frown,
With one balloon and one short song, and with your tambourine,
My son said you were the best street performer that he had ever seen.
He was six, and I was quick and silent in my pace,
and you bent down and talked to him and looked him in the face,
He needed that, he needed me, but you were there instead,
The lesson that you taught that day still lingers in my head,
And yet I walked on past you, and didn't stop to think,
My company in debt, and my marriage on the brink,
Preoccupied with my own life, I didn't even see,
That life had been unfair to you, and somewhat fair to me,
And so I stopped right in my tracks, and then I turned around,
Passed twenty-seven garbage bins, but you were nowhere to be found.
So every time I pass that spot, I wonder if you're real,
or if you are an angel, reminding me to feel,
I thank you, man, whoever you are, and wherever you may be,
And I try every day to be the man you'd have me be.

-kb