Many years ago I read a poem that had been framed and placed on a wall in someone’s apartment, and I have not come across it since. I was struck by it, and would like to locate it.
It was about 5 or 6 stanzas long, and was about a penniless vagrant, and there was some imagery about holes in the soles of his boots and the rain dripping through them but then it was shown somehow to be analagous to some kind of grace or blessing this poor clochard was filled with or deserved or was receiving despite all. Anyone familiar with the poem?
OT: I was about 14 or 15 years old, and my dad and I were driving through California City (in the Mojave Desert north of Edwards AFB). I saw a street sign that said “VICTOR ST.” I looked at dad and said, Wouldn’t it be funny if the next street was “HUGO”? We approaced the next street. The sign said “HUGO ST.”
Hey, Johnny L.A. (cool moniker), you must have some kind of extra powers!! And my poem?
I knew you were going to say that! 
Sorry, I don’t know the poem.