Kismet (Poetry)

I saw a beggar on some city street
who wore a faded suit of pinstripe cloth
and battered leather Oxfords on his feet
his face like one who might have been a toff
some time ago when luck and life proved sweet
but fortunes change — he was reduced to this
precarious existence — hand to mouth
it made me ponder just how hit and miss
our little games — not knowing what’s in store
the penalty when everything goes south
A boardroom man who never dreamed he’d lose
his power — thought there’d never come a day
would find him ragged — wearing holey shoes ...
The pavement’s cold and people look away