Thirst is never quenched,
by distant vision of the water,
It burns like a desire,
Consumed, and contracted,
With blazing of time,
You may trim the clay of hopes,
from outcast of ambitions,
and days to return empty handed and worn.,
making fallen leafs your,
Only ornament,
Fate is. a street boy,
crying over broken toy,
Your silence,
meant for confession,
unwanted sins,
dragging weary feet,
on bend of street,
Just with homeless and,
wayward love.
Rafique Farooqi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/homeless-love/
