O' to have a roof over ones head,
other than the overhang of an awning.
To be able to open a door to a foyer,
other than walking through a revolving door to a lobby.
To have a kitchen to store food,
other than a back alley where my spoiled fruit and half eaten pretzel are stored in a dumpster,
or where my day old sandwich is located on the corner of Fifth & Madison in a wire basket.
A warm and soft bed would do me fine,
so the cold slab of concrete that supports my back would no longer harden my soul.
The feather pillow could support my head,
like a loving parent does when a child needs advice regarding the ideas and decisions one makes.
If I had such things,
I may not be rich but possibly a man with self worth.
I'd find pleasure in the most mundane job,
conversation with my equals,
and possibly, even love with someone who would have me.
by Barbara Morey ~