He doesn't ride anywhere
not a flying horse 
or one fashioned in gold
he has walked these hard streets
apparently every day
have you seen him?

Too shy to sing out
no will to write
no telling his past or future
he stood where doors were closing
and still when lights went out
who knew?

Not recognised in the mirror
nor noticed in the dream
he has taken clouds for his friends
although the angled rain
scratches and scars as it hits
can this be his truth?

He doesn't know the passwords
has no membership card
as a member of no club
he sees how shallow the sea
how ruthless invalid argument
now how should he progress?