migrator

He spent his days dreaming of leaving and he remembered the stories he’d been told, of how the city shone at night, and how the streets were paved with gold So he sold off everything he owned and he hit the road with his trusty cat - he had no compass, guide or chart but never once thought of turning back He hitched lifts and he stowed away, he cut through fences in the dark, he begged for money in shop doorways, he slept on benches in the park He sold the cat to buy some food and the promise of a passport from a man he knew, he was told there’ll be a job for you if you pay up front – but that fell through The last anyone saw of him, he was sleeping rough near Trafalgar square - he ruined the feng-shui of the street, but when the police arrived he wasn’t there