Street Waifs
I can't lock my door
Because
Street waifs might come in
Drenched with rain
In the wee hours of the morning
When dawn is a weight
That hangs in the air
Hungry hands search
Brazenly
Through kitchen's fare
And warmly pet the cat
Who has come to investigate
The world has dreamt
As they have traveled
Through the dark-bright night
Into the memories of tomorrow
And arrived at my door
Like a lonely ship at port
Seeking something uniquely theirs
And having found it
Cares are cast aside
Like the Only coat
They will fling on my chair
Or the shoes by my door
Before weary feet carry pilgrims
To couches
And the blankets I have left
Because street waifs might come in.
