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A poem about street people and the horrors on homelessness, particularly in winter.


Submitted:Jan 23, 2011    Reads: 36    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


They freeze outside on winter nights
They walk out in the rain,
A furrow marks a grassy verge
Where a dying man has lain.

Outside in
Melbourne's winter
The homeless live and die,
No friends remain to mourn them
No loved ones left to cry.

We do not try to help them
We leave them to their fate,
By the time we act - or even move
We find it's much too late.

They die outside in winter
And in truth we do not care,
We pass them in the freezing streets
And wish they were not there.

Outside in
Melbourne's winter
As icy winds do blow,
We spy a sea of street folk
Whose lives do ebb and flow.

Ebbing in the winter cold
As Antarctic winds do howl,
When life outside is ever hard
And the weather ever foul.

It's a foul and evil universe
For street folk living rough,
But rich fols in their mansions say
"Life is not too tough!"

But for the cold and lonely
Those without a hearth or home,
The winter time is like a sword
That lances to the bone!

THE END
© Copyright 2011
Philip Roberts





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