The Libraries Are Warm
For a bum like myself,
the libraries are warm.
I walk down cold and lonesome
avenues and deserted streets
and I am cold and lonely.
I clench at my heart
to stop the flame,
that keeps me warm,
Keep it from going out.
I go and walk,
my hands are numb,
my face and ears are blacken
and frostbitten,
and I go into the library.
The building filled with books
that were written by bums like me
who tell their stories,
of how they survived the bitter cold.
I sit a corner desk,
way in the back,
all alone,
next to the heaters,
and I write on
and stay warm,
till closing time...
-10-26-2013-
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
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