Under the Overpass

My morning walk is sandwiched
‘Tween the river and the road
And I’ve seen a homeless guy there
With a tent as his abode.

Several others sleep on benches
And one slumbers on the ground,
Yet since yesterday a couple
On a mattress can be found.

They were curled up under covers
With no pillows and no sheets
Underneath a concrete overpass
Connecting to the streets.

Though at night it must be private,
In the early morning sun
They were there on view for exercisers
Out to walk or run.

Most just gave a glance and passed them
But I couldn’t help but muse
How they wound up on that mattress,
Not a “bedroom” one would choose.

Life is sometimes cruel and heartless,
Filled with status that appalls
And I felt for that poor couple
Who, at least, deserved some walls.