Street Waifs

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.