The times the boy remembered,

From one home to the next.

Making friends along the way,

Seemingly, honestly perplexed.

He did not know, why he was uprooted.

He just knew, the life he’d began to love,

Will be the distant past in a few short miles.

Where he’ll stop, no one knows,

But the change is the same,

New life, more friends, same situation.

The boxes remain packed,

The house never truly full,

The son of a travelling salesman,

Will never be right, he’ll never be close,

This poor boy stuck, in a life he never chose.