Wandering across roads,like lonely cords without heads
Discarded garments are their coats
They embrace the icy breeze all night
Bitter kisses they shower on sunny days

Their voices sound like echoes
Wept in the heart,produced through the mouth
Like southern echoes heard in the north,
They sound very faint

While the masters feed and smile,
They wait patiently across the street
Wearing pale faces in the mile,
They swallow the sweet bubbles in flight.

When the sky is cloudy
A weather for two,people say
The masters rush into their horses,
To seek comfort in their wonderful shelters

If you come across them one of these days,
Spare them a coin

Written By: ©Erlie Physhers (Abuku Emmanuel Kwaku)

Email: focusamek@gmail.com