Homeless
There were song birds sweetly singing
and fawns beside a brook
all the while a mandolin elf
danced atop a book
which lay upon my heaving chest
as I lay beneath a bough
a mattress made of dandelions
defied gravity somehow
When I awoke the day had fled
The shadowed light grew dim
I rose up like the vapor
which floats above the glen
the cold wind seemed then to move me
toward the city’s edge
I rejoined my surly carcass
sleeping neath a bridge.
If I had a dollar
I’d buy a jug of wine
and kiss my lovely mistress
the siren of the vine.
poem by George Murdock
Added by Poetry Lover
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