Few Dimes For a Meal
He roams through empty boulevards
To sleep at night… alone,
Where from the unlit doorway
Is a makeshift called home.
By morning, arm raises thin palm,
In hope that passers-by
Could drop a few dimes… watch them fall,
Then maybe eat a rye.
While sensing a deluge of rain
The boy hears the winds roar,
All drained, old shanty torn apart
Can of soup, peas… no more.
Yet a young waif needs to survive,
Without time for regret
He pleads gently, needing a meal;
A vagrant's life in debt
7/20/2015
Debbie Guzzi's Contest
Food Can't Live with it can't live without it
by nette onclaud
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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