Man On The Street

Man on the Street

They looked away
He wasn't like they were,
They walked straight, were clear of skin
and neat,

They turned and whispered
Shook their heads,
He shouldn't be out among us
He should be off the street,

He shuffled along bent and twisted
With blotchy skin and tattered clothes,

He thought to himself
I shouldn't be out on the street,
The way I am;
But no one knows,

There was a time I stood straight as an oak,
Shaved smooth and clean,
The finest clothes and shoes I'd wear,
Before the times were lean,

Then all my treasures turned to dust,
My loved ones walked away,
Success and reputation gone
Hard times and illness filled my days,

I was like them who shun me,
Offended by the sight
What I've become,
A victim of my plight,

If only I could warn them,
If they'd listen to what I say,
But I know better
They'll have to find out their own way

Nancy Ellen Crossland

Hope for the Homeless

HOPE

I sit behind the bars wondering what I did to deserve this.
Why am I here? What did I do wrong?
Will I ever find a home?

I hear voices, I see people!
I bark, wagging my tail.
I scream out “Pick me, oh please pick me!”
But just like my luck they pass my pen choosing my friend.

I lay back in my cold, cramped cage.
Would someone come who’d care for me?
Love me?

Days pass by, continued by weeks.
Yet still I’m all alone in this pen.
I give up hope, watching as my friends find homes, yet I’m still here.
All alone.

Footsteps can be heard; they stop near my jail cell.
I look up at the friendly face.
She smiles and says she wants this one.

I jump for joy.
“Oh yes, I’m free!”
She laughs and says, “You’re coming home with me!”

Finally I found a home; sweet home.
Somewhere I can play and roam.
Now I’m happy thanks to her.
I know I’ll show her all I know.
‘Cause I never want to go back there.
Back there where I had no hope.

Rachael Ann Drummond