A kind old man
Came yesterday
Gave me water
But walked away
I stared at him
As he turned his heel
No thanks I spoke
How must he feel?
See I can't talk
Been here too long
Turned to the streets
Where I belong.
I've no bed
Just a blanket to hold
But it's ok.
I'm growing old.
Been here too long
No bed, just a box.
Just a strange old one
That the houses forgot
Your feedback helps Timmsyy understand what's working
If I could live my life as a rhyme, I would.
The local tramp is a trinket Sitting on the floor Not in a proper house With a bed or a door He was quite a stinker And looked tired too He looked he needed a bed And some rest- phew.
Why is it so cold out tonight. The winds tearing at my whispery grey beard, again. I shift body weight to keep my chin away from the bitterness of night.
#household I'm the bed that they lie on. The blanket that, keeps them warm. I can be their home, and with me they roam. Tired, hungry and cold, this is how they live.
#household We've staked this humble home of ours, out here among the stars Where dreams do fade with waning light, and stings like salt upon old scars.
#household #procrastination High above streets Amid glass suites To gleam away grime Streak free shine I tower above The push and shove 'Tween reflections of clouds Above the crowds Just me and...
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