Wandering Soul Poem by Christopher Neil

He's a wandering soul,
with no place to call home.
He roams the streets,
but he never roams alone.
He walks these streets,
until the streets become a door.
He stays for a while,
but he'll go out for more.
He doesn’t know possession,
he doesn't care for this.
He sits on the street corner,
in everlasting bliss.
An angel from heaven,
had given him a kiss.
Saying life is beautiful,
and life he won't miss.