Homeless: A poem by Jayashree Bhattacherjee

His eyes reflected the hues of the sky so desolate and grey
Bereft of food and shelter, no place for his head to lay
Lifelessly and wearily the waif lingered about the barren, bleak, black street
A crumbling face, bristly hair, tattered clothes, no shoes on his feet
Catching water from a leaky faucet just to get a drink
Survival was a constant struggle always living life on the  brink
Empty and hopeless, homeless ‘n hapless was he a vagabond forlorn
Envying all who lived luxuriously in the cozy comfortable abode of their own
People passed in fine suits ignoring him as if he wasn’t there
No sympathy shown, nobody cared, his life was hard to bear
Untenured, on that foggy night he turned to his torn darkness of woe
Uttered he, “Why have I to crouch instead of continuing to grow?
Oh God, why don’t you answer me, why thus have I to be?
The birds of the  air, the fish of the  sea you take care, what about me ?”
When the stingy world was cruel, suddenly appeared a compassionate old man
To provide him with work, food, and shelter, the Good Samaritan
Magically his world was changed, he was grateful to live the life he got
No more homeless was he, after many a tough struggle he fought
Thinking of the homeless, may we all join hands in ushering in that day
When they’ll have a roof overhead to keep their sufferance at bay.