The boy was homeless
He had been strolling the streets
alone
amid all the bustle and haste
He was lost at every turn

Gazing wildly
he saw everything
Nothing was the same
Except
An old soda can

He kicked it with contentment
along his journey
to no discernible place
Frail and pale
He limped along

Not a visible emotion
garnished his fragile face
His body kept some secrets
It murmured
softly into the darkness.

What's heaven for waking eyes?
A ripened pleasure hanging in dawn
On the last limb of a tree
A mango
As yellow as the sunshine

Filled with a fresh determination
wearing a precious laugh
Trembling
He climbed
Trembling to the very top

He stretched to the fruit
The fruit stretched
Into his hand
and his sinking teeth
quenched his dying hunger

The boy's face dripping with joy
as he dripped
Slowly
Sadly
to a trodden sidewalk

He held a solemn smile
on his crimson face
This once homeless boy
had found
his own place

Time has plot with night
to do away with day

An evil plot they thought of
so Night was here to stay

You may not grasp this story
until your day is through

When time and night are your friends
and day now dead is you

Novelty means new
A Poetic Novelty?
Explain this to me!

On a seaside *****,
there is an old weathered house
resting in its place

Many sun shines alone
burnt, but steadfast to its role
Cool breezes maintained

While angry storms wrecked
a quiet escape it kept
Lightning struck and soaked

The garden lay waste
leaves high, shrubs dried: untended
All unintended

In adversity
this old weathered house stood firm
till its job was done

Now, the sun shines through
a hole for every year passed
and heat pierce its flaws

Tattered windows shut.
Splendid views cannot be seen
like eyes closed to sleep

Garden's lush and groomed
Flowers adorn every niche
Wreaths of perfection

On a seaside *****
there is an old weathered house
resting in her grave

Fear not the unknown
Rather, embrace its dark void
In it true self's found.