There is some kind of neglect that sits in the hearts of most human beings. The coldest part of the heart, it is often the smallest and the blackest. It can be a sort of neglect or dislike for animals. Or a certain personality trait detected in people. It can even be a dislike for elder people, or young children. However, regardless of the neverending variety of hate this world and it's people hide away in a secretive bundle, I feel that I have experienced the true warmth and kindness a heart was said to drip with. For I am a person focused strongly in the dislike of most minds and hearts; a man of worthlessness and nothing, with no home, no possestions and found sitting on the street, trying to collect money for a meal or two. There were compassionate people of course, the ones that certainly did not mind sparing a few dollars for the less fortunate. However, there were also the cold hearted, ruthless city dwellers. People who often take a glance at me, before becoming disgruntled by my haggard appearance, and walking on, almost as if fooling themselves into thinking that myself and others lined up beside me were not in need. However, generousity had never before been experienced, until I met him. For when I met him, the course of my life's emotional track began to run a little smoother...It was the day I wrote the song.

It's a little bit funny,
This feeling inside.
I'm not one of those who can,
Easily hide.
I don't have much money,
But, boy if I did,
I'd buy a big house where,
We both could live.

It was a cold day in midwinter, gentle flakes of crisp, white snowflakes floated down from the clouds, staying airborne for barely seconds before they dissolved to the pavement underneath everyone's shoes.

My back pressed against the brick wall of a building, my body felt like a cold lump of numb feeling; bitter and unmoving. Living the way I did and not having much, Winter was the worst Season to force mind and body through the severe, ruthless temperature combined with an empty stomach and a failing heart...At times the thought of giving up had passed through my mind, and as much as I tried to push it away and put up barriers of right thinking and choice, most of the time I found myself filled with these thoughts of giving up and letting the life drain from my body. Then I wouldn't have to carry the burden of everyone's hate, and the burden of my own survival.

I watched legs pass my vision, jeans, track pants, even pajamas...A variety of personalities shown through presentation of clothing. A small bucket, one that I presumed once contained paint, for it was silver, fairly large and had a handle of the same sort, sat in front of my sitting, freezing form. However, it was empty...Most people were greedy, and disliked sparing even the smallest of change for the city's hopeless citizens. Their thoughts revolved around the idea that people like myself were going to use the money for alcohol, or drugs...But those things had never been for me. It was impossible to deny that some people did waste their money and lives doing this; but I was not one of those people who chose to bring curse upon their health.

If anything, a small meal would have been nice, considering I hadn't eaten for the past two days. I never expected much money, a lowly begger such as myself can never hope for such things; but enough to afford the smallest of portions of food, was usually a blessing among sorts. I waited on this cold afternoon, the sunlight tucked away behind thick, billowing clouds, ultimately forbidding me from having even the most primitive form of heat.

Then he walked by. I could tell just by looking at his legs, that he was rich. For he was clothed in fine material, it looked smooth and..comfortable. However, these legs did not walk on. They did not continue on their way, leaving me with the cold chill and aftertaste of severe lonliness and resentment for living this way. He remained still as a stone statue. However, it wasn't until I looked up to view the face of the unknown person, looked up to sink into the eyes and become ravelled in the smile; did I see how beautiful that stone statue was.

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no...
Or a man, who makes potions in a travelling show.
I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do.
My gift is my song, and this one's for you.

His hair was golden, shining as if to replace the sun on this harsh day. His eyes...had no beginning or end. Eternity shone in the color, deep, blue and lucious. He stared directly at me, a smile quirking his lips and kindness preaching from his angelic form.

He dropped, almost thoughtlessly, a bill of some sort into my empty, worthless money collecting container. I stared. I had never seen such a boy walking around before; living on the streets the ability to recognize quite a few faces is gained. Just as this beautiful person opened his mouth to speak, a well dressed man rushed up behind him and gave him a gentle shove on the shoulders, almost as if to hurry him along. I recognized this man, that was for certain, he was the rich president of a very successful company.

And that only left one conclusion, floating in my head like a whispy, light feather. This gorgeous person, in body and obviously in mind, was this rich man's son. "Come now, Rufus. Don't linger around these..." The man's voice trailed, and he began to lead his boy away by the shoulders. "They'll steal everything you own. Don't make any eye contact..." I heard his words that stung like needles; the stereotypes, as he made his way along the sidewalk.

I felt stupified, leaning back against the brick and almost not acknowledging the cold for several seconds. That rich company president was a very cruel, relentless man. He cared for no-one who didn't live the way he did; and I hadn't even imagined that his son would be so...Beautiful and god-like, and...generous.

That one word is what brought me to remember, he had made a donation to my worthless paint-can. I reached over and brought it to me, looking inside...And what sat there was overwealming, astonishing...too much. I felt grateful, yet needful to return it to him. One hundred dollars was too much to waste on dirt like myself, it could have been used for a bigger purpose in his own life. However, there was no way I would catch him and return it now, the crowd was becoming and endless mob of madness. I sighed.

Rufus...I had to repay him somehow.

I took the bill and clenched it in my hands, leaving the can where it sat, somehow suddenly uncaring...The way he had stared at me so ominously...It still lay on my lonely mind, made the wheels in my head turn and work like some sort of complex machine. I had to repay him for this much too generous, much too kind contribution...However, one question remained, that was yet to be answered. How was this small goal of mine going to be fufilled?

And you can tell everybody, that this is your song.
It may be quite simple but, now that it's done,
I hope you don't mind,
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words,
How wonderful life is, now you're in the world.

I had nothing of value to give in return, or even in exchange...People passed me by as I stood up and began to walk, where I was going was not planned out. People were nameless, faceless blurs, some slightly knocking into my shoulder and causing a blunt sort of almost painless feeling. The sky was bleak and distant looking, bright in my eyes like the light of inspiration. My head ached.

Never before had I felt this enlightened, the realization that some people care to a strong extent..Thoughts invaded my mind like an army of wonder and unsure feelings. Why did he donate to me, and no other on the street? This was the most sinister, haunting question, that would probably never be blessed with the beauty of a right answer. Seeing him again was a endless future; even if it became a goal I intended on keeping, I would be chasing a train of reality, of destiny that never made any stops when it wasn't the right time. Rufus had removed the tiny peices of glass that seemed to penetrate the pulsing, throbbing lump of pain and sacrifice that sat in my chest, leaving it only to bleed with a sense of longing; a longing to touch his lips, stare into his eyes and hold his body close to mine...It was love at first sight, something I didn't mind admitting, for I was a firm believer in such a thing.

Then it came to me. Like a beautiful rainbow that sparkles over the land and returns joy after a storm, or like freezing rain creating astonishing icy patterns on the glass of windows...This feeling was truly remarkable. I then picked up my pace, still clenching the bill in my clammy hand, rushing to the nearest corner store, where a pencil and some paper could be purchased..

It wasn't going to be much of use or importance to him, but I didn't see any reason why I had to do nothing about this act of sincerity. I brought the paper and the several pencils I had purchased with Rufus' money, and I sat down against a building, in a shallow, shady alley where I could be alone in the barren solstice and quiet; where my mind could wander the endless paths of my brain and decide what to be written on the now empty lines of the clean, fresh white paper.

It was lovers month, and if anything, all I wanted...Was to make Rufus' heart soar, aching with romance that would become the warrior to defend him from any and all spouts of lonliness and despair. A blanket of roses, a wave of love...A song. His song.

The pencil scratched along the paper's surface, not coming out as neatly as I had originally hoped, but I was happy enough indeed to get something down. Something that, wasn't utterly corny or stupid, just...simply put. Easy to understand, and likable. Better yet, I had always dreamed of writing a beautiful song with wonderous lyrics to charm the person I loved on this day of bleeding hearts and over-rated romance. My taxi of opportunity had finally arrived, stopping to pick me up and travelling fast down the road of joy mixed with mild nervousness. I was on my way, as I scanned my eyes over the first several lines of lyrics...I was surprised at how my raw feeling was shining through, and I was pleased. I just wondered about Rufus' thoughts...

I sat on the roof, and kicked off the moss,
Well a few of the verses, they've got me quite cross.
But the sun's been quite kind, while I wrote this song.
It's for people like you that,
Keep it turned on.

What was he thinking of at this precise moment in time? Where was he, and how was he feeling? I wondered, as my hand wrote more words briskly across the paper, if he was thinking of me, feeling lovestruck and not wanting to be just where he was. I wondered if he was infected by the same symptoms as myself.

The scratch like noise that sounded when I wrote upon the paper flooded my ears. I watched the people pass for a second, haulting when the words seemed to stop running from my mind, to my pencil, to the paper. People holding hands, as they walked, couples looking happy and in the clouds. Love; and Valentine's Day...They came hand in hand, and it was often one of the most depressing days of the year, for some. Usually I was a part of this percentage, but this time I felt...Quite different.

Cupid had struck me with his sickening arrow and somehow I found myself thinking it was unavoidable to try and stop him; this imaginary angel had amazing accuracy for choosing great matches.

I gazed up at the sun that had proceeded to burst, fight and struggle it's way through the thick quilt of clouds covering the sky; it's largely cheerful beams blessed the city with light colored rays of warmth and good will. I gazed up at it, and although none of the magical sunlight touched my ice cursed body or the alley I slumped in, I still felt a sudden strange surge of comfort; warm comfort, starting in the very core of my body. It felt like an angel had embraced me, and I started to think that maybe such a break through of intense sunlight, unlike any I had ever witnessed before, was perhaps a sign...My life might take a sharp turn, for the better.

I removed my eyes from the beautiful light and strolling crowds of people, and turned them back to the paper with my messy chicken scratches. Closing my eyes for a couple of instants, and deciding what word was to be layed down next, I ran the pencil swiftly and noisily over the paper once again. Seconds later, I brought the dull looking, pink eraser over the words, causing them to disappear from my sight. I wondered how long this was going to take, because I wanted to have it complete before the day burned away from my grasp, becoming ashes that symbolized the past.

I sighed and took the cold air into my lungs, my throat stinging only slightly from the intense cold. People continued to pass in my vision, as I stared off, feeling able to see naked time in the air, ticking away..Running from me. It was getting close to late afternoon. Taking my time was no longer an option, if I wanted to have it for Rufus today. I found myself thinking about him again, his serene beauty and that odd aurora of grace that covered his presence and body, thick as wool. And, if I was to do anything, I was going to finish this song. My stomach rumbled, as I pressed the pencil to the paper.

So, excuse me forgetting, but, these things I do.
See, I've forgotten if they're green, or they're blue.
Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean,
Yours are the sweetest eyes, I've ever seen.

I didn't write down a thing, for I was getting a little bored with my tasteless location. I needed to be somewhere high in the air, somewhere that would allow me to view my part of the beautiful, serene mother earth, from a higher distance. Where the sun could soak my clothes and my soul, where the air was crisp and enjoyable...A place where I could hear the angels sing. A place that was, a roof. The roof of a house was the most amazing spot for experiencing such formidable things provided by life.

I began to walk to the house I often used when there was something beautiful or interesting to be viewed; like a rainbow, or the clouds opening up to reveal a hiding sapphire sky. The rich president's house, for his was quite possibly the highest roof in all of the town. A place where a breath of fresh air was like being washed over with a cold ocean wave; shocking and astounding.

I stared at my feet as I strolled, making my way easily with the paper held fast in my left hand. The pencils were clenched tight in the other. I contained the remainder of the money in my pocket, and I could hear it jingling slightly with every step I took. There was still a lot of money left over, compelling me even more so to do my best in making him something from my bleeding heart. Gifts like that were always the most touching, and the ones that lasted forever. This money he had given me would not last for eternity, but I extremely hoped that this song,

(hissong)

would remain forever, if not in paper, materialized form, but in sentimental, heart-warming form. I wanted him to remember my love whenever he felt lonely, afraid, sad, or angry...Even if he probably wouldn't remember such a shady and almost pointless person in his life, and I was still unsure of whether or not I was even going to sign my name.

I arrived in the long driveway, and I could see that the Limosine was still parked, shimmering and white, like that of a celebrity. The sun gleamed off it's glamorous form, and I wondered if I would be able to see my reflection in it if I came close. However, regardless of the vehicle still being parked, I knew both the President and Rufus had departed their home, for I had seen them walking.

I slinked along the sidelines of the house, finding the location of the long ladder that was placed up alongside the house. I had put it there weeks ago, finding it in the forest near the house, when my sight seeing had begun, and nobody had noticed yet...The house was maybe so big that it wasn't even important to them. I climbed each step, higher and higher, feeling the breeze become stronger and my spirit fly along with it. It would only be a matter of time, for it was becoming dusk, and the sun was fleeing quickly over the hills, allowing darkness to take over the radient skies like a sickness.

And you can tell everybody, that this is your song.
It may be quite simple but, now that it's done,
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind,
That I put down in words,
How wonderful life is, now you're in the world.

I examined the fluffiness of the sky, the tender blue and the intensity of the sunlight. I began to write down more lyrics that came to my head like the simplist of miracles; the sun beating down heavily on my head, making me feel very warm and very calm.

The world had stopped spinning in my own mind, words floating from seemingly thin air and the natural inspiration the nature gave away for free, helping me accomplish my goal every step of the way. Dusk slowly wrapped it's blanket of mystery around the atmosphere, a dark cloak dotted with winking stars and slumber.

My mind raced along an almost endless track. I read my lyrics over and over, questioning myself. Were they exactly the way they were meant to be? Is this the proper message I'd intended to potray from the very beginning? ...Would he like it? Of course, that was the only question I couldn't answer myself. I had chosen in the bitter-sweet end, not to sign my name at the end. It would be better for the both of us if he didn't know my name; only my love, for we could never truly be happy together.

I climbed down from my perch on the roof, to make one last trip to town. That, of course, and I had been fearing for quite some time that Rufus and his Father would return. I scampered off into the night, my heart clogging my throat with delight and excitement.

After spending fifteen or twenty minutes on the town, on the search for the perfect rose to add to my Valentines gift, I headed quickly down the path of his driveway again. This time, I was positive he and his Father were home, for the light in the large kitchen was on, visible shining through the windows like a holy glow. It was a very cold night, and I zipped my only sweater, the one that I wore all the time, up a little higher as I carried the paper, and the single, sweet smelling flower, all the way to the front door.

I took in a sharp breath, and stuck both the paper and the rose through the golden colored mail slot (Most houses didn't have them, but their mansion was practically antique.) I slammed down hard on the knocker a good few times, before swiftly turning, and walking away at a regular pace, slowly and secretively disappearing into the night.

I walked towards the door, after hearing a clatter from the heavy knocker outside shake through the entire house. I wondered who would show up at our house on such a cold, lonely Valentines...Night.

However, as I neared the door...Something else pulled my thoughts away into another realm. There was...a flower, on the floor, and some paper...I rushed towards it, picked up both items and beginning to run my eyes over the words.

The words that simply stole my breath from my lungs, like a material possesstion. Sent my heart fluttering high above me, tangoing with the stars and mingling with the moon...

But as I reached the last lyrics of this most beautiful song, I found there was no message. No name, no identifacation of any sort. It had my name on the first page, but the name of the writer wasn't printed anywhere...Confused, I opened the door and gazed into the heavenly night, a cold breeze whipping around my body and sending my skin into shivers.

Then I saw him, walking...His long, fascinating dark hair, swishing behind him in the night. A strange traveller, in dark clothes that blended with the uncanny night...I had no idea who he was; a stranger of sorts. However...When I saw him, I did not feel intruded, or alarmed...I felt the heat of the sun, the gentle touch of the wind and the cool serenity of trust and love.

But most of all, I felt his eyes burning into mine like passionate fire...The way they had on the street, hours earlier...

I hope you don't mind,
I hope you don't mind,
That I put down in words,
How wonderful life is,
While you're in the world...

Your Song//End