The sky is his ceiling.The earth his floor.Tired eyes are his windows.Day and night his doors.
He is never homeless-As long as the trees have the earthAnd the birds have the sky.This is where he lives; this is where we live.Still we call him homeless.Why?
this is from a paper i bought at the metro station. the man who was selling it said “hello my sister”. so i found a dollar that i didn’t know i had and then had a nice conversation with him. i found the poem inside the paper while on the train… as i was thinking of our conversations about belonging… and disconnect – afeefa
Too good, a very touching and expressive poetry!
too good, a very touching, expressive and close to heart poem.