The Cold


Feel that chill wind from the north,

Nipping the head and ears,

Biting at fingers and toes,

Bringing a tear to the eye,

And a drip to the nose,

Wet steam from wasted breath,

Cheeks all rosy red.


In want of thicker clothes,

A layer of thermal mercy?

To those not wrapped in a blanket,

Like snot blown into a hankie,

And hid in a jacket pocket.

Winters come, nights draw in,          

Thoughts for the cold, put silver in the tin.

  • Author: Maymorning (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 13th, 2021 09:55
  • Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this poem in Scots originally, I scrawled it down after watching a homeless man singing "Wild Mountain Thyme" in the street. I feel we often ignore people who fall on hard times and find themselves homeless. It must be even harder for them to keep warm in Winter. I hope it encourages more people to give a little something to the next homeless person they see.
  • Category: Friendship
  • Views:


  • dusk arising

    Nice thought but there are so many fake down and outs these days - how do you tell which are genuine?

  • Rozina

    So cold and such difficult times for many people. We are so fortunate. Thank you for this reminder.

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