Losing your home,
Is like losing a friend.
Is like being uprooted,
Again and again.
You sit and you worry,
About where you will go.
About how you will get there,
In a place you don't know.
The more there are of you,
The more your mind flits,
From possessions to people.
All wanting "their" bits.
Made homeless by paper,
Made homeless by greed,
Made homeless by people,
Who don't see your need.
Mandy Ward, 13.10.2016
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Dreams
PoetryFrom my first efforts to get published as a teenager, to some of the things I have thought about during University... experiences of Death and loss, as well as drunken poetry rambles. Poetry helps me to think about things that are happening in life...
