TRAMPING THE STREETS
These streets that have not been paved with gold
These streets are so old
These streets are so, so cold
The weather beaten sidewalks
Covered in moss, grass, so crass
These sidewalks with dust and mistrust
Passer byes with no eyes
Their heads bowed down with deep, deep frowns
They are on their phones, calling their homes
Warm and snug, without the bugs
The traffic seems endless, relentless
Not a quiet spot to slot to plot, oh the forgot!
The forgotten, begotten
Those trample these pavements
Day and night
Night and day
Looking for shelter in a world that is like a skelter
Round and round
Twisting and turning
Ending up in a ramshackle
Is this the life to be led?
Surely there is a better life instead?
Their worn out faces
They know their places
Scratching out an existence
With a nickel or a dime
In all the streets grime, crime
Is this life paved with splendours?
Surely it does not!
It meanders, ganders and wonders
Just like these wondrous, not so glamorous
© Teresa Joseph Franklin
10th June 2013
All Rights Reserved