Street - Smart

Street - Smart


Prowling the roads one night,
Under a glorious full moon,
I saw myself all bed-raggled,
Living in my own home soon.

A bowl of soup in hand,
May not amount to much,
But have it with bread and buns,
With butter and all things such.

I may be called a tramp,
And all I do is dream,
But sometimes they are so kind,
They give it to me with cream.

Hey, look where you're goin'
I am an upright man, I am,
I know not where I am going,
And know not whence I came.

Too many things to think
For a homeless tramp is tough;
The life with me goes on,
By no means smooth, it is all rough.


-© Dr. Taher Kagalwala (August 2003)

Written for

ID: 333655   (Rated: 13+) The Writer's Cramp  Write the best story or poem in 24 hours or less and win 10,000 GPs! by Sophy

.

Prompt was: homeless, full moon and a bowl of soup, poem to be 20 lines or less.