Regina Puckett
Tucked under a blanket and wishing he was out of sight
He pretends he’s in bed while trying to shut out the light
He made a bed last night out of an old, hard park bench
His lullabies were complaints about his presence and stench
Just because everyone tries to pretend he’s not really here
He’s not deaf and can clearly hear each taunt and sneer
This would never be his first choice as a shelter after dark
But since losing everything his home is now the city park
He’s a daily object of pity, criticism, hopelessness and shame
While we all point our fingers as we decide who is to blame