nick
September 19th, 2010, 09:18 AM
Tired and dirty, smelly, cold,
he trod this earth alone,
his overcoat was tied with string
he didnt have a home.
He slept amongst the hedgerows,
or in a shopfront door,
no duvet, sheets or mattress there,
just hard unyielding floor.
Had it always been this way?
No one really knew,
reason said he once was loved
and had a mother too.
What made him choose his lonely path,
to live this sorry way?
What had been the turning point?
For sure no one could say.
At length he found an empty shed
where he could safely hide.
He curled up in the corner there,
and there, unloved, he died.
he trod this earth alone,
his overcoat was tied with string
he didnt have a home.
He slept amongst the hedgerows,
or in a shopfront door,
no duvet, sheets or mattress there,
just hard unyielding floor.
Had it always been this way?
No one really knew,
reason said he once was loved
and had a mother too.
What made him choose his lonely path,
to live this sorry way?
What had been the turning point?
For sure no one could say.
At length he found an empty shed
where he could safely hide.
He curled up in the corner there,
and there, unloved, he died.