Ode To A Hobo

Ode To A Hobo

I admit the more I give and try

My dreams wither from the cold

All the while my head in the sky

I should have been digging for gold

Pocket lint, a hole for my change

Won’t keep me under my roof

Yet I continue to lose this game

And dreams no longer assumed

“Get a job” they shout from miles away

All from the tops of their lungs

Meanwhile I stop, stare, and dare

The thought of rising above

I admit the more I give and take

Each day is harder than the last

By living moments to break away

And knowing I stink of trash