Home - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Home

A small child dreams of the day
She’ll have a home of her own;
A room without others in it;
Food to calm her hunger for
More than a few hours; a
School to attend for at least
A month; friends she can
Play with for a long while.

Experience clouding her face.
Etched by one heartbreak after another.
In an imposing, cavernous enclosure,
A stolid old man stands up;
Condemns her kind;
Retires to an opulent office,
Lunch, home.


 
You can support my work, because poetry matters.


Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Poetry by Guy Farmer