Sixteen Today, A Homeless Stray Poem by Heath Gunn

Sixteen today, what a joy.
He starts to change, from man to boy.
An age of wonder, many trials,
to shape his ways, many styles.
His back on childhood he does turn.
For manhood, older years he yearns.
Those who share his special day,
all left behind when he ran away.
Now on cold and heartless streets,
his birthday morn he wakes and greets.
Alone he lives from day to day,
they know not why he ran away.

Is he alive, or is he dead?
They live their days, filled with dread.
Each knock or word from passers by,
makes Father tense, and Mother cry.
Afraid of news each caller brings,
afraid to answer when telephone rings.
'It's his birthday today' 'I know! ' he snaps.
She pours the tea, he turns his back.
Stands at the window, looking out,
nerves are fraught, he wants to shout.
Come home Son, just please come home,
back where we know you're safe and warm.
He looks up at the rising sun,
for nine months now, thats all he's done.
He lost his job, walked the streets,
hoping by chance, his boy he'd meet.
For five straight months he searched the town,
talking to Tramps who slept around.
But had no joy, his spirit crushed,
to hospital with stress, his wife'd been rushed.
At home they sit, from day to day,
hoping fro the return of their young stray.

The same sun rising in the sky,
is beheld in the young man's weary eyes.
As in his sleeping bag he rests,
on grand impressive, town hall steps.
These nine months past have been so long,
at first so weak, he's grown so strong.
Survival of the toughest kind,
takes all his strength, of heart and mind.
The working public begin to mass,
they turn their heads as him they pass.
Pretending not to see his plight,
he's out of mind, if out of sight.
But he's cold and hungry, been raped by men.
Pinned down at night, to hell he's sent.
Once young, niave, now filled with shame.
A teenage life, of needless pain.
His thoughts now turn to Mum and Dad,
builds up a picture, they'll be mad.
He can't go back, he can't retrace,
his steps, or home he'd go at pace.
So on the streets, is where he'll stay.
by cold wet night, or sunny day.
Yet fooling no-one, he's still a boy.
sixteen today, what a joy.

Heath Gunn