My Bed for The Night.
It is getting late on a cold dark winter\'s December night.
I need to find somewhere to sleep that’s far out of sight.
Another day spent fighting the cold and the need to eat.
Walking for miles in the rain with my sore worn-out feet.
I have been down and out on my luck for a quite a while.
Getting back to where I once was before, I continue to try.
Suffer the intolerance of the public on a continuous basis.
It is getting ever harder to find safe and waterproof spaces.
I don\'t drink or drugs, so I avoid that part of the street crew.
I don\'t want to fight argue, spit and shout, I’m one of the few.
My days are spent trolling in the streets looking for a home.
I’m not fussy a wardrobe is ok as long as it\'s safe and warm.
The hostels are full have and waiting lists that are too long.
I’m not sure they would have me; I’ve not done any wrong.
I could never get a room or flat because I do not have a job.
So have to remain as one of the roaming and homeless mob.
I cannot get a job because I have no money and fixed abode.
For the foreseeable future the streets will be still my home.
So, I settle in the Oxfam doorway and get into my damp bag.
Then i eat the little bit of food from the day before, that I had.
I put up cardboard boxes hoping people will leave me alone.
Every day, this is my bed for the night, and this is my home.
Nataiella