Homeless

here’s me like a homeless person
always on the street
if I come inside
there’s somewhere my feet shouldn’t go
and i don’t know what door
would have me

I get mud on the floor
my hands also dirty as my speech
should it reach your ear and
burn it

but if you let me sing
it might be worth the time it took
away from your book to answer
the ring of your doorbell

nothing here to sell
just an offering of life
lived too long on the outside
to ever feel comfortable
with the easy chair
and dinner table

still I wonder
what it is like
to come home