Choice: A Poem
A steamy hiss off the cobblestone walk
As the April mist falls on the city
A troubadour slowly strums a tune
While his ragged bolder collects only the rain
He is the owner of this street
No other claims on this warm spring night
He leans on a blackened gas light
Playing his worn guitar
His coat is as thread bare as his trousers
And his shoes are hand-me-downs from a stranger's trash
No rest for the weary, no food for the broke
He leans on the post, content and happy
He chooses this life
Knowing his wealth exceeds the king
For he owns his life by living in Voluntary poverty
Published by Scott Bauer
Novelist, poet, and an average guy who has happened to have done more than most. Now taking the time to figure out just what I have done and why... View profile
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