The Shelter
A home am I for friendless thoughts,
Lonely thoughts that are centuries strange
And wouldn’t a hostile country range,
For they fear her frigid and mindless taunts.
My face is pleasant, and strangers smile.
Most walk past, but some look in
And catch the shadows and hear the din
Of the outcast thoughts and a faded while.
But, hearing the voice of the new and known,
Wordless, they turn from the thoughts within,
For they are the moment’s kith and kin,
The thoughts eternal, and I… alone.
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