homeless

I lay down to rest my head on a bench along the park.

Up above a canopy of autumn leaves 

and a sky -- dull and gray --

fill my vision. 

The wind,

cool, refreshing,

rustles the leaves 
that had gathered on the ground. 

It

l u l l s

   me 

into 

   a sleepy state.

I could sleep here. 

Yes, 
on this very bench

that must have have held the  d r e a m s of many a homeless man

or woman.

What would it be like to sleep out on park benches, in street corners, in the   

c o l d 

 of the night? 

I have never known.