Wasted Time by Charles L.

Surviving The Land

Streets that run empty.

So cold is the night, 

with shadows dancing freely,

seeming to avoid the light.



Fear within is constant.
I am unable to rest.

Praying this very moment,
and hoping for the best.



Every window barred shut.

The doors all locked tight.

Never really knowing, 

what may be lurking out of sight.



Waiting for the sun to rise.

A few more hours to go.

Have they heard my cries?

Do they even know?

Cold concrete is my bed,
thin cardboard covers me.
Again thoughts fill my head. . .
surviving the land of the free.




Raymond Trower is the editor of Santa Barbara Community Street Voice.