Wednesday, February 14, 2007


This night, while we are all safely tucked in our beds
Others sleep on the pavement, a rock for their heads.
Tomorrow no one is likely to give them a hand
All alone on the street corner they'll stand.
They'll watch all the Benzes and Hummers go by
A cup in their hand, perhaps a tear in their eye.
Just clothes and cardboard to chronicle their plight.
No doubt, they'll still be alone come tomorrow night.


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