I am a fisherman

Yesterday I bumped into an old man on my way out from work. I noticed an old faded tattoo on his right arm as he gestured shakily from  what seemed to be substance withdrawal. His face lit up with a smile just as our eyes met & he mouthed words I strained to hear. 
"I'm a fisherman" is what he said. "I'm so hungry, I have nothing" he told me has he rubbed his tummy.  So I grabbed a packet of mini cheddar's from my lunch bag & held it out to him. He reached for it reluctantly but his eyes shone as if they had seen pure gold. 
"Never waste a cent...never waste a cent hey?" he chorused as I walked off. That's what any old grandpa would say, I thought.  I know he's  coming from a place of regret but the thing that got me is this; as far gone as this man may be, he still bears fatherly instincts. The kind of instincts that say "Don't make the mistakes I have." "Learn from me." Do better with your life. "

I gave to him & he gave back to me what he could.

Homeless people;they're just people. People living in a parallel world. Some of them runaways, some addicts, some trafficked to "the promised land"...just people like you & me.