Just a Bum

***Recently, while going through the family home after losing my mother to Covid, I came across the writing of my great-grandmother, Minnie Louise Bumphrey, who was a published writer and poet. Over the next few days I will be sharing her works on my blog.***

He walked down the road in the fading light, wondering where he could sleep that night.

All that he had was in his hand. Just a bundle, was all he possessed in the land.

No home, no friends, no place to go. No shelter from winter is cold and snow.

No smiles to greet at a journeys end, nothing in the world not even a friend.

His thoughts went back to another day, when around the old home he used to play.

Of Mother and Dad, how nice it was then. He’d give the world to be back there again.

But mother and dad had long passed beyond and things went different after they were gone.

So he looked to the east and he looked to the west, wondering which road would be best.

Just a bum without any home. From place to place he must ever roam.

No kind words, no one to care, he had slept in barns and just anywhere.

He turned down the road, it mattered not which one, they found him at dawn, they said “just a bum.”

*** Originally written by Minnie Louise Bumphrey of Kewanee, Illinois.***