Concrete Bed
Why is he there
too wasted to think
on a bed of concrete;
he needs one more drink.
Over night in jail
his punishment be
found crawling the streets
on bended knee.
He feels like a fool
the warden shakes his head
he was embarrassed and unclean
on a concrete bed.
He tossed and turned
till the new morn
with his face in his hands
cursed the day he was born.
Bail was posted
a fool took a chance
he’s a no good drunk
you can tell with one glance.
He’ll be back soon
on this concrete bed
with alcohol the culprit
he’ll wish he was dead.
poem by Mimie Durand
Added by Poetry Lover
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