The Street Dweller

They call me "Homeless" 
but don't care to ask my name.
I prefer "Street Dweller" 
'cause the streets are my home.
 

They call me purposeless 
but life on the streets spell
"Survival of the fittest" that 
makes me far from useless.
 

They call me hopeless
but I have hope as I am 
streetwise.
From place to place I trek,
I know bins full of food, 
and outside which shop to beg.
Bus drivers know me, 
turn a blind eye when I hop 
on for free rides with my dog Fred.
 

They call me senseless
but I put to use the common 
sense given by the Most High 
when I look to the sky and 
can tell if it shall rain or shine. 
Then I know where to lay 
my head; in someone's shed, a 
fold up box, open air? 
anywhere as long as it 
is miles away from a fox!
 

I am a street dweller.
Yes, among life's fittest.
A survivor, that's who I am.

©Deborah E. Nyamekye 24/09/2016

Poem in soon to be published book
Gloom, Hope & Glory : Spoken Word Prose & Poems about  everyday life & world affairs