HOMELESS

As they walk deserted streets of dawn with a knapsack or a cart
Sleeping in alleys covered over by papers, seeing this tears at my heart
They will trudge on through snowfall blinded by cold
Picking up pieces they see as gold
It may be their next meal it may be their drink
But it will help numb the feelings, so they don’t have to think

For it wards off their hunger, the cold and the fright
And give little comfort in their darkness at night
Some will die in those alleys, or in a ditch by the road
But they will die with their honor for that unspoken code
 
They will range in their ages their color will too
And deep down inside they once lived as you
So think again when you see them, smile and be kind
Please stop walking past when they ask for a dime…

© Brenda Keough
    1986