The Transient

I am a fleeting resident
No matter where I go
My bags are always packed to leave
I know nowhere as home
A thousand faces pass me by
I know no one as "friend"
I do not know my parents
I have no next of kin
To see me is to forget me
There's nothing to remember
A temporary memory
Gone like last November
If I were to die someday
No one would ever know
A body in an unmarked grave
Buried beneath the snow

Back to the Table of Contents!
Back to the Main Page!
Make your own free website on