Lorna

No Home

If I sit with you on concrete

Warm myself with blasts of precious heat

Rising from unyielding subway grills

Put newspapers round my chest

And on the ground of cardboard home

Eat half sandwiches of strangers

Pull my hat low over my eyes

To hide the ever present shame

That takes on a persona all its own

If I add to this my overflowing tears

To those you no longer think to weep

Would that take away my guilt and anger

Could understanding ever help me sleep