I grew to know the sidewalk stains
as well as I could recognize
the lines on my own upturned
empty palm. And I was hungry
more than I was not, for things
I had and then forgot, and swallowed
up the loneliness of crowds. I dressed
in restaurant restrooms and took
showers in the rain and dreamed
at night inside an old and dented car.
But I was home inside my head where
there was nowhere for my bed, and I am
gone. Now I don't live there any more.

-Ronda Lawson

More than I care to remember I have
consciously forgotten of the days
when I had nothing left to hold.
Even now it leaves me shaken when
the memories still break in. And
I think that there is shame in being
cold. For every footprint I left homeless
there are miles I've walked between them
and I am the only one who knows
the way. And I could never really
write it any more than I could fight it.
But I keep spare change in my pocket
every day.

-Ronda Lawson

What a beautiful poem!

Thanks, Florida. Here's another one:

Nursery Rhyme

There is an old woman
who lives in a car.
She knows she has children
but not where they are.

The bough had to break
and the cradle must fall,
and the wind now has left her
with nothing at all.

Now the sheep's in the meadow,
the cow's in the corn,
and the little old woman
is weary and worn.

Star light and star bright,
the night will come soon;
she'll lay down a wish
and jump over the moon.

- Ronda Lawson

You have a gift, Rhonda. Your poetry can speak to many.

I thank God that you are no longer alone and hungry.