a day in the life of a happy hobo

a poem about a hobo and how he fills up his day.

A day in the life of a happy hobo

 

I walk across a misty meadow at 7:14 in the morning drinking a bottle red wine.

 I love what I do and I love what I am.

Can you say that about your self?

 

I enjoy lying under an oak tree in mid summer while chewing on a blade of grass, I scratch my beard and day dream about wonderful adventures.

I watch insects hover over a near by corn field, then

I am off again rambling across

This lonesome country like

a lost Ghost.

 

I walk until I find a stream filled with lunch, I do some hobo fishing

for a few hours until I catch a juicy fish which I eat next

to a blazing fire. I open another bottle of red wine

I then fall to sleep listing to the gentle sound

of the crackling of the fire.

 

I play my old guitar because I love to, no other reason than that. Sometimes people give me money for my guitar playing, sometimes they don’t, all I care is

that I am still playing the blues...nothing more nothing

Less.

 

My bag is old, it smells, and it has had its day, just like me. The bag doesn’t complain, nether do I. The blood red sun is starting to

Set, so I set up camp for the night. I then start to drink

my third bottle of red wine and watch the stars come out,

I look into my campfire and smile.

 

 

 

I walk across a misty meadow at 7:14 in the morning drinking a bottle red wine.

 I love what I do and I love what I am.

Can you say that about your self?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 by luke ritta

 

 

 

Reviews

[Ruth]

I am astounded by this! You are an excellent writer! The person that can freely love what and who they are is a free, happy person! Not many can say that!
Amazing friend!
xx