I wish I had coins slipping out of my pockets
When sitting on a sofa in a house to call mine.
Hear them chink feel them slither into crevices
Between clean soft cushions under which
They would hide for my future dire straits.
I wish I had the chance to retrieve them
Each time my stomach groans laments
Count them with a smile of anticipation
Hoping their sum adds up to the price
Of a sandwich maybe even a coffee
Just every now and then. Perhaps a few
More than necessary so that I could be
Generous also with my neighbours.
Lately Mr. B is always sleeping he is faint
From hunger, I would gladly buy him a steak
Maybe a pastry for Lilli by the river she is pale
She is not moving from her cardboards she is afraid
Someone might steal them again.
[Featured photo: Homeless by artist unknown]