HomelessA Poem by Hippo
Homeless people in London
They lay on the pavement, wrapped tightly in paper and card;
Life sleeping rough on the streets during winter is hard.
No food, no money, no job, no falult of their own;
Living on the street isn't their choice of home.
Wearing layer on layer of I'll fitting clothes to stave off the cold;
At desperate times routing through bins for something to eat scraping off the mould.
Queuing outside a shelter for some food and a bed for the night;
All the spaces full, back on the streets with people walking blindly past, not aware of their plight.
Huddled two and three in a doorway, the smell of stale urine in the air;
Being pissed on by party goers who don't even care.
Some sit and beg with their possesions in shopping trollies stacked up high;
People with no comprehension of their problems sneer and remonstrate as they walk on by.
Some make donations and take time to chat and pass the time of day;
It's often the salt of the earth people, who strangely enough earn very little pay.
Perhaps they see something that the affluant choose to ignore;
Yes that's right, a human being, wrapped in cardboard, freezing cold on the floor.
© 2010 Hippo
Birmingham, West Midlands, United Kingdom
AboutI'm new. Have been inspired to write by a very good friend of mine who is brilliant in her own right! If i could be a fraction as good i would be over the moon! more..