The Man Without a Home: A Poem

He emerged on the horizon

Of a crumbling walk

And paused

To swab his feet.

They were caked in dirt

And bleeding.


When I asked why,

He said,


The falling snowflakes,

So beautiful as to blind,

That seep into cracks

And lie in wait

Year after year

To break your countenance

And turn it to dust.

Leaving it to blow

Aimlessly in the wind.


For what is love but

Cement formed

From a single mold?

Strengthened by steel

Hardened in the rising sun

Smoothed by a ballet of trowels

It becomes a single path.


So tread lightly on this esplanade

Of love beneath your feet

Skip rope, draw chalk figures,

And dance upon it,

Let it lead you to

Wondrous playgrounds

And home again.


This he said.

Before he continued

On his journey.


This man without a home


4 thoughts on “The Man Without a Home: A Poem

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  1. Wow. This is beautifully written, I tried to keep up with how you used the words, how you playfully turn some phrases into a masterpiece of a poem. Really nice work! Hey, don’t hesitate to visit my blog page, I would love to connect with you. 🙂

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