Homeless of the Earth- An Original Poem
The sun rises on their heads
And, like a candle, quenches before their faces.
They have no windows and no doors
No beds and no mats
Into which they can tuck away their privacy.
Unlike you, they rarely use the word, mine
They are the homeless of the Earth,
They hate the Harmattan
And the dreadful face of Winter
They hate the unforgiving cold
And the vengeful heat
But to stay alive,
They have to love the things they hate.
Image sourced from Pixabay
I am @gandhibaba, the young man who goes about carrying his magical pen, not his gun, in his pockets.
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Gif courtesy of @artzanolino
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