Home-Less


I know this little stretch of land
Measured twenty-seven by three
On the map as an etch of sand
Where I often yearn to be

Parcel of sentimental earth
Saltwater permeates the air
Nostalgic is this place of birth I often long to be there

Her narrative chronicled well
Together we fall and we stand
Through tribulation and travail
Whether on seawall or the strand

Measured not in miles of square
That outlines its aqueous coast
Pleasured times in visits rare
Of fun its beaches boast

Never will distance trump my thirst
Nor hunger shall deplete
Winding roads shall be traversed
And sand shall be under feet

Galveston Island is the place
Whose love I must confess
She very seldom sees my face
Because I am Home-less

By Poetroy58