A light drizzle fell,
Bits of sleet mixed in
The cold found its way
Into every inch of his body

In his day
He would have found himself
Shopping at Whitehouse & Hardy
Instead of staring in the window.

Sam had been a broker
Used to action
Awash with money.
Now, he had thirty five cents

Not enough for another bet,
Not enough for a cup of coffee,
Not enough for light weight wools,
Or a family.

As the rain chilled to snow
Sam walked off in search
Of another overhang under which to loiter
And dream of what had been.