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What A Feeling

What a feeling it is to say, “This is my own house”
For one who lived years in a rented residence
What a feeling it is to say, “I’m full to my neck”
For one who starved for weeks, being out of work
What a feeling it is to say, “This rag is so warm”
For a half-nude hobo who lives under sky-dome

Small pleasures, yet great gratifications they are,
For those grieving souls, in sheer indigence
The poor are poor; but poorer are the ravenous rich
Who can never reach these richer indulgences

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