Nine months of hard walking,
through cities and villages chalking,
my name on foreign walls,
tall tales heard
from the patter of rain squalls,
sleeping is cheap
under bushes deep in undergrowth,
I don't complain
but walk alone,
shaking hands in unknown lands,
the magnitude
of my gratitude knows no bounds,
to strangers
and unseen dangers,
food given,
drink shared,
by caring shabby long haired
street sovereigns,
princes,
queens and kings,
sitting in parks after dark,
sharing,
tearing loaves in half,
an equal division,
a vision to tired eyes,
blistered feet,
burning city streets,
newspapers found,
telling stories of wars,
boring tories,
football scores,
debates by delegates,
and beaten down doors,
paper insulates,
when stuffed down your trousers mate,
benches await amid wild screams,
our grateful dreams.
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