Poetry by Sweetpea

searching our souls for a redeeming trait

all the while wondering what will be our fate

the thunderous silence of a lonely old lass

conversing intensely with the reflection of glass

the homeless, aimlessly wandering alone

all the while searching for a place to call home

the torturous souls that never can rest

but only haunt sidewalks and linger at best

the aged and crippled forgotten by kin

looking for something to invest their faith in

the rich for monetary pleasures endure

without true friends they are indeed very poor

riches are abundant and in our heart abound

poverty non existent if we share the wealth we've found

for deep within our soul resides the patience of a saint

somewhere in our hearts is a love without restraint