The dream seller is there again,
settled on the corner of Kings Road.
People walk by and ignore and
noticing, my atmosphere slowed.
He wears a green, rugged parka
and scatty, fingerless gloves.
Desperation glazes his eyes,
this isn’t something that he loves.
His grey hair lies greasy with
crumbs trapped inside a straggly beard,
the public avoid walking near him,
the teenagers say he is weird.
A torn and tatty sign is clenched
within his shivering fingers,
it reads a scribble of ‘two pound a draem’,
followed by a foul stench that lingers.
Shouting loud for all to hear,
takes him all of his might,
he wants to sell you a dream,
even if it takes him all night.
The man ignores the laughter
and turns on the charm,
he is angered by his situation,
but he truly means no harm.
He sells ‘dreams’ to make living,
to create a new beginning.
Buy a dream from him today
and take all his bad dreams away.