Jul 2014
Pants hang from my tree;
so please knock —
before bothering me.
I'm not homeless.
The park is my shelter
The grass, my bed.
The wind, my comforter
and sunny California,
my adopted mother.
so please knock —
before bothering me.
I'm not homeless.
The park is my shelter
The grass, my bed.
The wind, my comforter
and sunny California,
my adopted mother.
