THE TRAMP
The sun crept over the buildings
scared it might be seen.
The shadows retreated slowly, stubbornly.
Light and dark battle again like yesterday.
Neither moves quicker than the other.
The shadows retreat uncovered the shape on the bench.
The rubble was once a city building -
the shape on the bench doesn't care .
Nothing has changed for the shape.
Still no food. Still no home.
Dreams of explosions and people running, crying , screaming.