Refuse

If i could i would

steal all the  things

the world doesn't need

and write them into poetry.

an unwanted child

an orphan annie

will feel right at home

with a lost soul like me

and victims of disdain

the unlike other kind

will realise i am good

once i make up my mind

the bird with a broken beak

the woman from a broken home

will find i am broken too

and shelter in my poem

and shall we talk

of books well written

that no one seems to want

i take them in and enjoy

their beauty and their old fashioned font

the desolate man

on a snow-filled peak

finds pleasure in my words’ embrace

he thinks i am his as he reads

there’s no hurry no race

the world keeps looking for ways to discard

the things it thinks it doesn’t need

but for them i ache

and they don't disappoint

despite my indecent greed.