Saturday, February 7, 2009
Runaway
A man stood,
Gleaming amber in the sun.
A burnt, burnt tan
Show how destruction begun.
His wallet had not a cent nor note
His face, unshaven, a rouge.
Tattered and torn,
Body forlorn,
He roamed the streets at dawn
Sleeping in the allies at dusk,
Where the smell of rot and garbage musk
His past and his story,
His world and his misery,
No other passport would suffice,
Not a single food but yesterday's rice.
His kin is alive and kicking,
He's out of the house,
Yet gossip was never aroused.
A man with a compete family,
Yet parentless and loveless
Roams the world by feet.
