Homeless - An Original Poem
The sun rises on their heads
And, like a candle, quenches before their faces.
They have no windows and no doors
They have no beds and no mats
To cook their privacy into a fine meal.
They are the homeless,
They have befriended the Harmattan
Yet, it's their worst enemy.
Image sourced from Pixabay
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I am @gandhibaba, the young man who goes about carrying his magical pen, not his gun, in his pockets.
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great poem! thanks for sharing
Thanks for reading. Cheers!