There they sit,
mocking me…
beckoning me…
calling me…
to come and join them.
They sit there
in their self-righteousness,
full of knowledge and wisdom,
asserting their superiority,
hiding safely
under the bridge.
The beauty surrounds them.
It knows me too.
The rushing water…
the foliage-rich
banks of the brook.
They know
their home is my home.
As much as I try to avoid them,
the bedrolls…
the bottles…
call my name,
saying,
“Lost one…
Find your way home.
We’re waiting for you.”
Lest I forget…
that I am always…
only
one step away.
Copyright 1979 Dave-Michael Valentine. All Rights Reserved.