Moving constantly,
foreigners migrate
from house to pavement
sipping coffee on dividers.
Nowhere to go
no here, no there
no base to call home
and then there's winter
that comes unannounced;
alone in time
a cold heart to hold,
where to now?
Nowhere it seems,
like the lost child
wandering astray
no parents to care
no hands to hold
and homeless at heart,
so lost but true
does the foreigner's way go.
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