Will I have a roof to call my own?
Will I go roofless without a second thought?
Will I hold someone’s hand?
Will I forever sit bare-handed?
Will my tree bear fruit of the sweetest kind?
Will my seed go unplanted?
Will my feet stride in freedom?
Will my wrists be adorn with cuffs?
Will these eyes handle the sight of friends progressing?
Will this heart handle the burn of friends passing?
Will I be an idol of integrity?
Will I be a crazy old coot?
Will I even be?