The Hobo Poem

More about The Hobo Poem

A Hobo wanders, without a care,
Traveling light, with a heart so rare,
His tattered clothes and worn-out shoes,
Tell a tale of a life he did not choose.
He rides the rails, on a boxcar's back,
Through the valleys and down the track,
With a bindle and a hat for shade,
He seeks adventure, a life self-made.
He meets strangers, along the way,
Sharing stories, night and day,
Under the stars, by a campfire's light,
He finds comfort, in the darkest night.
Through cities and towns, he roams alone,
His spirit free, like a rolling stone,
With dreams and hopes, as his guide,
He faces life's challenges, with stride.
Though he's labeled a wanderer, a drifter, too,
He knows the world, in a way that's true,
For he's learned the value of simple things,
The joy that solitude and freedom brings.
So, raise a toast, to The Hobo's life,
A traveler, a dreamer, without strife,
A vagabond, with stories to tell,
A soul who's embraced the road so well.