Out on the
streets, cause I’ve nowhere to go.
Can I sleep in your doorway,
would you have a spare box?
The answer’s the same, go away, get
lost.
Out on the streets, lost and alone,
I've found me a
doorway, and look there's a box.
I'll settle down inside before
I'm told to get lost.
Out on the streets, it’s every man
for himself,
food is a problem as there’s not much around
but
the garbage can is full, so lets see what I've found.
Out on
the streets, you will hear me cry,
I can't cope with this life out
here on my own.
I just want to be loved; I just want to go home.
© Jeanette Walters, all rights reserved.
This
poem may be used free of charge, on the condition that copies are not
sold for profit in any medium, nor any entrance fee charged to a
performance. In exchange, the author would appreciate being notified of
any occasion the poem is used in public performance. She may be
contacted at: jeannette_001@blueyonder.co.uk