A Tramp In Rome Poem by MEKALH AGAMET

"See this man, strange and young
Despondent face disheartened soul
Poor lad came from far
To feel the breeze of beautiful Rome"
Hushed a couple passing by the street
Wondering at the poor soul
With a trembling hand and a shivering feet.

Yet the pure spirit deep down him
Unbelievably calm and content despite the cold.
He was a slave a few years ago
Only now escaped the edges of the sword.

But times change for good or bad
And now he is in Rome as a tramp
Passers by frown and scowl at a glance of him
They think his hope fades and turns slim.

In his very own world the poor lad
Assured his soul he got a cause
Better be a tramp in the streets of Rome
Than be a slave back home.