In need

Wandering past you, thousands of times, it seems we've become old acquaintances. There you remain, throughout the years, known by all for the kind smile and scintillate blue eyes. Your clothes tell the story of your past, each stain, rip and smudge. In town you carry a privileged title, renowned and appreciated by all, who praise the constant good wishes and compliments you preach as they pass by.
   You are deeply beloved to all of us. Yet, despite all of our appreciation, we never even asked your name, or how you came to be, this poor displaced man. We never retributed kindness. Perhaps we are, in reality, ,Mr. Homeless man, the poor ones. We lack compassion, we are the ones in need.