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