Homeless Monday Eating Breakfast Poem by Cigar Aficionado
Homeless Monday Eating Breakfast
It is four thirty two a.m.
the dumpster is cold to
my touch.
Others start to stir eyes
on only one thing.
Will you not antisipate
my meal hoping your
kind thoughts will be
my reality.
Lifting the lid moving
aside news paper I
discover another dead
body.
Moving his hand clutched
within a half eaten burger
my breakfast.
The nights left overs should
be gone by lunch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/24/2024 9:35:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
