(A Poem Dedicated to a Friend)


The sidewalk slaps ‘neath fraying sneaks

As spindle legs press on;

She’s on the way to somewhere else,

A futile search for home.


And windblown hair that begs for soap

Wraps odd her tired face

Whose weary eyes scan anxiously

For freedom more than place.


She starts and stops, jerks left then right,

Uncertain as the wind.

And only God, with aching heart,

Knows where her steps will end.


And simple grace she hopes to find

before the day is done–

A cigarette, some chips, or coke,

If not all three, just one.


Some money can be gotten cheap

In fives for flash or blow,

Confirming that her only worth

Is body made for show.


She briefly stops her zig-zag route

For face or voice of care,

And careless maybe breathes to light

A pain too dark to bear.


God’s virgin childlike beauty dear

Lies buried layers deep

Beneath rejection, scorn, abuse

That make the angels weep.


The frequent glances o’er her back

Tell some she fears police,

Blind to her shame and fear and blame

That chase without release.


And helpful folks who see from far

Insist she needs a home

Not knowing that its walls refuse

To let her spirit roam.


Her home tonight will be the spot

Where restlessness fatigues

And burdened sleep will briefly dull

The pain that never leaves.


With morning light, she then resumes,

The quest she cannot name,

Though road be new with change of view

Her story plods the same.


The sidewalk slaps ‘neath fraying sneaks

As spindle legs press on

She’s on the way to somewhere else

An endless search for home.




[Feature photo from]


  1. Bruce W Martin

    Wow. Just wow. Beautifully written. Her plight doesn’t just make angels weep. I’m shedding tears of my own. Thank you for writing this and sharing this Roger. And most of all, thanks for caring. You’re the real thing.

  2. Brenda


    You write poetry so very beautifully, and with a passion that leaps from the page, particularly with a subject so heart-rending. Thank you for sharing your heart.


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