Poetry

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The dream i had a night ago,into my home a stranger
came,i was alone he wasant old nor was he young,
asked him where he had come from,he just pointed
up the road,and said number two plus something
else,that said he became a little impolite,and when he found i wanted to say good night,i wanted
to give some help as well,while on his way outside my door,a comrade,of his snatched from my hand,
what i had intended to give,and a snide remark he
made to me,go back inside to your bed,his serious
kind of grin,then made me go back in,with a quick
farewell and back inside my door,it was a strange
kind of dream,dont want no more,and strangers arent so strange anymore,except to say now i know
the score,have a healthy respect for those i dont
know,and also for my friends that grow. Joe.

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