The Circle

The Circle

Out of the circle that surrounds our life,
Their friendless souls feed upon Silence,
Their body so dried, no tears nourish their life,
These burning hearts die, of too much patience,

From time to time, He approaches; maybe it’s a She,
Why would it matter though, the shade is already away,
There is only a coin, as a testimony,
Of this brief presence, which could have shined their day,

Orphans, they breathe here and there in the shadow,
Weak like the shy wind of a sad autumn day,
Imperceptible though altering the flow,
Of our long and proud journey,

Out of our circle, this nest we share,
Tied by strong ropes of indifference,
They remain… The Homeless…