The Camp

by joetwo

In the middle of opulence

Amongst the boulevards and stately manors

Where the aristos walk well-coiffed poodles

And talk the great business of the idle

There is a hidden space

Amongst the trees and bushes

Where the destitute live their meagre existence

No comforts of home there

Nothing that their oblivious neighbours consider a right

A basic camp

A tent, umbrellas for shelter

An open fire for heat and cooking meagre rations

Just enough to live

And there they survive

Fearful of the day

Constant in their minds

When their so-called betters deign to spot them

And alerted to the camp’s presence

Use their power to move them

Somewhere else

Somewhere possibly worse

 For even the worst hovel

Can be home to some

And who wants to be forced from their home?

I ask you