A POEM WITHOUT A HOME

oh please, won't you just take me in

i'm weary as i roam

i need a friend to pass the time

a poem without a home
.

i barely knew my author

he just threw me out to rove

a recipe that he cooked up

then served me from the stove
.

i've since become a luncheon

for an eager reader's mind

vibrations for the deaf

a patch of braille left for the blind
.

i wonder what my birth meant

and what landscape i should comb

i need a place to rest

for i'm a poem without a home
.

perhaps you'd let me greet you

and then share your residence

i'll tell you of your future

while you're in the present tense
.

or regale you with the past

and thus illuminate your dreams

with sighs of mystic wonder

that come bursting from the seams
.

but now i sound pretentious

like a frothy sea of foam

perhaps it's just as well

i am a poem without a home