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Where Are Our Homes?

As the wind whistles,

As the rain pours,

As feet pound down the street,

As the cars fly by –

A young girl rushes home.


She pushes by an old man,

His jeans ripped and grimy.

He paces back and forth mumbling meaningless phrases;

His brain cannot form his jumbled thoughts.

Where is his home?


She hurries by a dejected woman.

Her body is losing the fight against the cold;

She can’t protect against winter’s cruel ways.

She has lost life’s lottery –

Where is her home?


Late already, she barely notices a young boy,

And his dirty hands

Cupping a single coin;

His stomach rumbling like an earthquake –

Where is his home?


The girl throws open the door of her house

A fine home it is.

Her family eats a hearty supper,

Potatoes and turkey, peaches and ice cream –

This is her home.


After dinner, she trudges upstairs;

She looks into her mirror – and sees her wealth reflected.

But in her eyes she spots something else –

A reflection of the homeless begging on the street.

Where are their homes?


A separation of a single wall –

The single brick barrier is the distinction of two entirely different lives

While some freeze,

Others feast –

Where are our homes?