by dreamscoper
Published on: Nov 26, 2003
Topic:
Type: Poetry
https://www.tigweb.org/express/panorama/article.html?ContentID=2344
The crowd starts to disperse into the night and everyone goes home. My feet take me to the street, everyone is sleeping soundly, and I am searching for my home. Light years have passed me by but everything else has come to stand. I look at every face in front of me, on the streets, in their homes, from the window, smiling. I think of everyone around me, who have something to live for or something to live by. Something or someone they're waiting for. And me I am searching for my home.... and then, I think that maybe someone would think of me and smile, that maybe I might be a part of someone's life. The street gets cold and I pull the zipper of my sweater up., put my arms together and look at the boy sleeping on the pavement, sleeping the way he should be sleeping, soundly. If, I could have a piece of it, just for an hour I would give him the rest of my life. He has a home on the street, a place to live; the whole world belongs to him. And as for me, I'm still searching for my home, and the world does not belong to me, it belongs to the child sleeping on the streets. « return.