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.
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Author:
Maymorning (
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: 24
Offline)
Comments2
Nice thought but there are so many fake down and outs these days - how do you tell which are genuine?
So cold and such difficult times for many people. We are so fortunate. Thank you for this reminder.
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