THE HOMELESS GIRL

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    THE HOMELESS GIRL

    She was born and raised in the concrete jungle
     Another JUST acronym for the streets
    Discarded garbage,papers and people
     Swirling playfully at her swollen ankels
     And not just the pounding concrete,
     But as well as the swelltering asphalt at her feet

      With a lazy eye she ponders and studies
      The movement up and down the beat
      She had another half sleepless night last night
      Down by the water,on the old abandoned dock
     With just a backpack for a pillow,a dirty ragged sheet

    But see last night she really didn't need it
     It was fairly warm and the breeze was very still
    But she clung to it as always,her friend in many way

    See just last week she took refuge behind a dumpster
     Down a forlorn and she thought forgotten street
    And then it was upon her,awakened with a startle
    Two men were by her forehead,3 were by her feet

    She knew it better not to even make a sound
    To just be quiet and let them have their treat
    When through she was bruised and battered
    Especially her face and underneath

    Then when it was finally over,she gathered up her stuff
    Most of all her friend,that filthy,tattered sheet
    The homeless girl began to make her way
    It was not an unfamiliar walk

    Yeah she's been down this road before
    More than a few times ,but never been this sore
    You know I'd seen her around maybe here and there
    Though we never even spoke,seems I'd turn my head

    But today was somehow different,we chatted for a bit
    It was then she asked me something
    Something I know I'll never ever forget
    She looked me in the eye and asked me
     Sir, what's it like at night to sleep in a bed

    And now my life's been changed forever
     I now walk with Humility instead
      I got rid of that old attitude
        Buried it deeper than the dead

    That Homeless Girl has now become my wife
    With this now I know that I am Blessed
      For now I have her tender comfort
    And she now has, A warm,safe Loving BED

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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    BILLY28’s Poems (6)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    THE HOMELESS GIRL 15
    THE HOMELESS GIRL 0
    BLUM PARK 0
    HOMELESSMAN / THE SAGA 3
    I THOUGHT THAT I HAD NOTHING 8
    THE PRETTIEST GIRL ON THE PLANET 3