PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In the darkest corner of the alley is where you will find me,

Slumped in a position of discomfort,

Staring at old photos, memories,

As I live my life on the streets, I think of her, of them,

Where are they now? Do they spare a thought for me?



The fire in the dustbin warms my fingers, but sends chills through the rest of my body,

A fleeting memory of my wife, laughing, dancing with me,

But not with the man I am now, with the man I used to be,

I see my children in the trees, putting yellow flowers in their hair,

“Look at me Daddy, I’m a princess”

I awake from my daydream to the realisation of tears on my cheek,

Where are they now? Will they even think of me again?



I sometimes want to go and find them,

Just to see how they are doing, to see if they are ok,

But I resist, for I know that just one brief look at my wife, my children,

Will send my heart plunging into my stomach,

How can I expect them to love me, look at me?

I’m in ragged clothes, I smell, my home is the iron and cardboard in the corner,

Why would they want to see me? Why would they even entertain they mere thought of that?



So I stay where I am, peeking out from within the walls of my alley,

Hoping to catch a glimpse of the people passing by,

Hoping that one day “they” will venture past,

Depressed, tired and drowning in self-pity, I stay,

With tears in my eyes, and photos in my hands,

Alone.