A Criminal sleeps?
I pass the man curled on a bench.
His one leg bent touching the ground.
A plastic bag acts as his blanket.
I see his chest rise and fall
Breathing the air.
I walk with his despair
To swim in my privileged life.
All this before the sunrises.
He is gone on my return
Least he be charged with
The crime of existing.
I often wonder, where I would be without my advantages. Let me know your thoughts at http://www.abberolnick.com
