my poems

Street Performer

I'm a stray,

a dog with mange,

striving each day

for passer's change.

It's hard to see,

rich wanting more,

ignoring me,

cause I'm dirt poor.

living on the street,

though I know I'll cope,

standing on my feet,

heart beating with hope.

It moves my fingers,

letting music strum,

the dream that lingers,

I will over come.

These guitar strings,

with every note,

gives me wings,

so I can float.

Takes me away,

when I can't face,

living this way,

in this place.