Rough Sleeping
Nobody told me freedom was so cold,
When I tore myself away
From the uneventful warmth
Of an ordinary family …
Thrashing about me in my confusion.
Wounding anyone who cared …
The tears slashing my mother’s face
Like razor blades …
But I had to get away.
Feel the wind of freedom …
Feel the wind …
I feel it now alright …
Icy blasts, straight down the river.
Eddying round the vast bulk
Of city buildings.
Over-warm … on the inside …
But huddled here, on the outside …
No real shelter in them …
That cruel freedom wind
Sifts through my thin clothes.
I remember warm jumpers,
And coats, abandoned
In my anxiety
To catch the wind.
But I can’t go back
Can I? …
To that ordinary love
Of my ordinary home.
Not now I’ve felt the wind!
But, you see,
Nobody told me
Freedom is so cold …
Copyright © Frances King | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment