Each man must have a corner
A patch of earth
To call his own
Under a thatch of sky.
As the Homeless
Have their the memories of one,
Crawling back through
A ball broke window of the mind.
And even a leaper
Must have his ledge,
A bit of rock face To jump from.
As sure as the dead,
Lay claim,
To the plots for graves
That, in the end, receive them.
Copyright ©2009 John Thomas Tansey
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem