December 9, 2008
By Lindsey M., Fredericksburg, VA

Moments ago, I was bursting with joy
among a warm-hearted crowd
filled with my own freedom.

But now,
I stroll down sidewalks
and dark alleyways
and watching.

I carefully examine the endless blankets of Winter's pure snow.
It freezes my mind, so I
try to form thoughts
but the chill gets too severe.

The constant thought
forms yet again.
I remember the warmth,
joy, happiness,
and the everlasting freedom.

I am trapped within
my infinite destiny.
I have nowhere to finally
rest my weary soul.

So I continue to live
this inevitable cycle.
Without the cheerful place
to call home.

The author's comments:
I was inspired to write this because I was thinking about, how in Winter, there are few homeliss shelters in my area. How do those without the necessities in the shelters and just normal, everyday things, cope in this harsh cold? So I wrote about a homeless person who always dreams of the happy place that we have to call home, and how this person explains his/her feelings.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book