TRAMPING THE STREETS
These
streets that have not been paved with gold
These
streets are so old
These
streets are so, so cold
The
weather beaten sidewalks
Covered
in moss, grass, so crass
These
sidewalks with dust and mistrust
Passer
byes with no eyes
Their
heads bowed down with deep, deep frowns
They
are on their phones, calling their homes
Warm
and snug, without the bugs
The
traffic seems endless, relentless
Not
a quiet spot to slot to plot, oh the forgot!
The
forgotten, begotten
Those
trample these pavements
Day
and night
Night
and day
Looking
for shelter in a world that is like a skelter
Round
and round
Twisting
and turning
Ending
up in a ramshackle
Derelict
Tumbledown shed
Is this the life to be led?
Surely there is a better life instead?
Their worn out faces
Societies erase
They know their places
Scratching out an existence
With a nickel or a dime
In all the streets grime, crime
Is this life paved with splendours?
Surely it does not!
It meanders, ganders and wonders
Just like these wondrous, not so glamorous
Pavement streets
© Teresa Joseph Franklin
10th June 2013
All Rights Reserved
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