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"Homeless" by Erica Wright

Watching children play from a park bench...my home, my temple, my space a

simple place no matter your race...

Cardboard boxes... old bowls and stained clothes line my shopping cart...

Not your typical decor...maybe more of an eye sore...

One must create a dialog from your mind to your heart of ideas that will never part;

Long showers and hot meals are often thought of from the heel of me behind you...

Mr. can you spare some change...

The answer is always the same...

In my soul, I still have goals...

Not to spend the rest of my life digging from trash holes...

No place to call home, no place to move on; what am I to do; walls that are built...

But not equipped from park benches and dirty streets never kneel down in defeat or repeat the cycle of life that took you off your feet and on to the streets...

But in the meantime and in between time; thinking of life's short falls you expect me to crawl, not at all...

My prayer of patience, a prayer for peace; even from this bench I hear the birds singing to me; songs of hope, songs of love; songs of encouragement, songs that belong...

In my heart even in the park; after dark... I thought I was smart...But somehow life fell apart...

I don't know if God will show...

But I'll wait; make no mistake we share the same air, the same rain, the same wind so look within; before you turn and grin...

Without knowing my story....

In my box without socks; I sleep in peace...under the stars; no hallways or cars...

I could be walking the yard with two prison guards...

But I trust the Lord at all times....

So as I sit watching the children play; I will continue to pray; that my stay will display in your head while you lie in your warm bed...