Seeking shelter.

Rolled up in her sleeping bag

Shivering from the cold

Shivering from fear

Peeking from underneath a woolly hat

The rain belting down in stair rods.

Was her thoughts on

Why was this path chosen for me

Will I be safe from those party goers

The sound of revellers falling out of night clubs

Always a fearful time

For all those living (if this could be called living)

Cowering down in doorways

Victims of the establishment, most

Some choose this path

None were happy with their lot

But then again are any of us happy with our lot

Would we change places if given the chance


Plaudits to all those who work the nightly soup run

Making sure those ‘living’ in doorways,

alleyways, beneath bridges all have fuel

to see them through the night

especially at this time of year.

Christmas time should be joyous

Let us be the one to prove it true.

Don’t close that stable door.

(c) Chris Black 2016




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