On Bourke Street Mall where footsteps pass,
He sits alone on iron brass
A bearded man, both still and slow,
Eyes cast down where shadows grow.
His coffee cup rests in his hand,
No rush to sip, no firm demand.
The world moves by in steady stream,
While he dissolves into a dream.
The hum of trams, the chatter near,
All fold into a silence clear.
As if the ground could speak below,
He listens deep to what he knows.
No sign, no plea, no spoken word,
Just thoughts that flutter, faint, unheard.
A quiet figure none may see
But in his stillness, poetry.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
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