Chris Matthews.

Homeless

 

There she was, picking up papers, the news; everyone had read. Stumbling now; never at ease, trying to make space for her bed. Rain smears down, a shop fronts' pane, raining tears down onto her face. How changed now, her childhood dreams, far away from this lonesome place. Spiteful night, hovers above; her cardboard tenement home, Clouded eyes now look around, in this world she's all alone. Rats and fleas; curious pests, will guard her throughout the night. Passers-by will look away, unconcerned at such a sight.

 

Wrapped in the words, picked up in the day,

Ignorant to know what they may say.

She sleeps a little, but not for long,

Too troubled by a life, all gone wrong.

 

Where is the family in her hour of need?

As now for strangers the hand stretches to plead.

"Out of work? Get a job"! Is all they may say,

Tragic actor? Not content! Life's not a play.

 

This could happen to you or me,

I know blind men who can also see.

So perhaps the next 'Big Issue', one will buy.

Could help end her problem and may soothe her cry.

 

©Chris Matthews.