Your Image Sleeps with Me
I came this morning
Wine bottle in hand
Looking for you under the tree
By the shelter
You must have known I would come
For you moved your bags.
I think I've fallen in love.
Why would you trust that?
What might you see in me who
Put you on the streets?
"Homeless, welfare mama," we called
You in scorn.
I saw behind those eyes
Woman
And your image sleeps with me
On restless nights.
“Awake,” I tell myself, “you are
Just an unwashed pig dragging your daughter through
The gutters of Philadelphia.
You should get a job."
In my half-sleep, those uneasy eyes
Haunt me into sweats of apprehension.
Today, I finally knew I must meet you;
But you moved your home.
Copyright © Michael Pedretti | Year Posted 2025
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