Man with the change in his can

A poem about homeless veterans. This should never happen,

The Man with the Change in His Can

By Shawn P. Cassidy

I’ll never forget the day I met that man on the street"

a long-bearded face, no shoes upon his feet.

An old green army coat hung loose from his shoulders,

Holes and patches with names of dead soldiers.

His eyes looked tired, his body worn thin,

his spirit felt broken, bruised deep within.

A silver tin can rest beside him on the ground,

and cardboard pleas that never made a sound.

I tried to imagine how he learned to cope

as strangers dropped coins in his can of hope"

soft clinking echoes of endless need,

feeding hunger for survival, not for greed.

A soldier in despair, still fighting to survive,

to chase his dreams, to feel alive.

To be seen as human, like days of old,

before the world turned to ice, bitter and cold.

I slipped him a hundred; he looked unsure,

then thanked me softly" humble and pure.

Sad eyes lifted, a smile took their place,

a flicker of light across his weathered face.

I wished him good fortune and his mind to rest,

I continued on my way with a weight in my chest.

I can’t stop thinking of that soldier man"

the man with the lost look

and the change in his can.

© 2026 Shawn P. Cassidy. All rights reserved

Reviews

[ETERNITY]

The names of dead soldiers with the holes and patches says a lot. The forlorn feeling of wanting to help but knowing nothing will really help much gives the reader a heaviness. Knowing the author has parted with an amount that will definitely mean something gives a lot of passion, yet what the soldier has sacrificed for the author's freedom can never be reimbursed. What a powerful piece.