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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
About living rough in winter.

Submitted: January 24, 2011

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Submitted: January 24, 2011



The street folk die in winter
Living outside in the cold,
The dreamers whose last dream has died
Their poor lives put on hold.

A blanket is in the bushes
Where a starving human lies,
Fisher Street’s small alleyway
A lonely person dies.

Using rocks for pillows
The street folk sleep outside,
When the frigid winter wind howls
They’ve got no place left to hide.

We nestle down in winter
With radiators at our feet,
We never feel the cold’s cruel bite
Contented in the heat.

But outside now in Footscray’s streets
The lonely do it rough,
The street folk die in winter
When their bodies say, “Enough!”

We do not try to help them
But we say it’s such a shame,
Rugged up inside against the cold
We know not who’s to blame.

Street hope for better times
But their better times are done,
They freeze outside in winter nights
Often dead before light comes.

© Copyright 2011
Philip Roberts

© Copyright 2019 Philip Roberts. All rights reserved.

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