The cold reaches to the marrow in my failing body

I stamp my feet in the vain hope to warm myself

I’ve a good spot again this year, opposite this posh shop

Each window contains these mannequins, my family 

They are proper posh you know, given them names too

As the seasons come and go they get dressed for me, it’s my world

Yet still I have my faith, try hard to rejoice each Christmas, be a Christian   

 

As you bustle past heavily laden with Christmas presents

I raise my hand to passing strangers,” spare us 10p mister”

You don’t hear or see me as I reach from the gutter

My reality with rats, dog turds, and flea ridden clothes

Wondering where my next hot meal will come from

I see you, up there in your central heated world

Stuffing yourself with food, knowing half will be thrown away next day

 

I look forward to Christmas Day, I get a real feast

My mates at the Sally Army give a me a hearty stew

Its like a radiator, I manage to thaw out, for an hour

Sometimes they have some society cast offs, new clothes for me

I get given this ticket to take to a place for my annual bath

The day after, ‘Boxing Day’, I call ‘Bonanza Day’    

All the treasures thrown, I collect from a dumpster and re-sell

 

Its midnight now, clubs are starting to empty, I hate this time

Drunkards spill out looking for sport, to look big in front of mates

They spotted me last month, three of them, ended up in hospital

I heard on girl shout ‘film it, film it’, as another rib breaks

Police arrived just in time; they had poured lighter fuel on me

Still I had a bed for a few weeks, and three meals a day

Did not want to loose my spot so I left, against the Doctors wishes

 

I bless those police and the Salvation Army as the cold bites deeply

To my real family, I am but a shadow of a past they seek to forget

My window family are fine; they try to welcome, but there isn’t room at the inn

Once, many Happy Christmas’s ago, I too felt the warmth of my family

A tear seeps, freezes, cold gnaws at my core, my failing body, I feel weak

Please release me from my pain I pray as sleep overtakes, a bright white light appears

I look back as angel wings bare me up; a peaceful smile adorns my frozen body.

 

© Phil Golding Dec 2007