Curbside

For it is where the homeless find shelter, in sight of safety’s fancies,

Though inconvenient, they hang around and gaze salivating,

To follow in the footsteps of the settled, picking up on the magic,

The virtue of having a home, in them is thus proved,

Who say, where there are trees, the roots are nourished.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In The Garden

Evol

Sometimes They are Mistaken for Dogs