By: Lara Charmaine Lagorra
The streetlight’s glow beneath the road,
The moon’s edge, veiled by the breezing cold.
I wander through the silent streets, all cold and alone,
A warm heart, restless eyes, scars carved into my bone.
A wanderer that allows the wind to guide my path,
Scrummaging through the trash for food in hunger’s aftermath.
Chased by those who find my presence merely a bother,
Empty and hungry, yet I still dare to dream a little farther.
The tales of warmth and tender care,
Of soothing hands and voices fair.
I chase the cinnamon scent of love unseen,
Through alleyways where hopeful dreams convene.
My coat worn thin, my spirit frail,
Yet hope still rises beyond the gale.
Somewhere past the city’s fading glow,
A place awaits where kindness continues to flow.
A bite of the storm’s relentless chill,
The hunger pangs that time won’t still.
A box or steel to shield the shiver I feel,
Yet more than shelter, I long for a heart that’s real.
A quiet space to lay my weary head,
Where laughter lingers and crumbs are spread.
Where gentle eyes meet mine and softly say,
“There, there, I’ll keep you warm and safe.”
Until that day, I’ll roam the night,
A cold shadow searching for light.
For every soul like me deserves embrace,
Not a lavish bed—but love, and a cozy resting place.
