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Wandering
February 28, 2011
It was late that night
Everywhere sounds of guns and fights
He was all alone
Only looking for a nice good home
He lived wherever he could
That while always keeping on his hood
He left his home long a ways
Just trying to live these longing days
He’d been to foster homes before
But he did not like how they always wanted more
He went back and forth from friend to friend
But they could not trust him after then
So now he travels where he can
Soon he grows and becomes a man
The days are yet getting old
Still he does not feel the cold.
© Anonymous
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