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Merry Christmas I think?

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Unseen

I walked beneath the underpass
Seeking a place to sleep.
A member of the unwashed mass,
The path I walked was steep

I stopped to warm my freezing hands
At a brazier burning bright
Around me rodents squealed and ran
Into the darkness of the night.

Rose was there, all dressed in rags
A bottle of wine raised to her mouth
A wary eye upon her bags
She was mumbling about moving south.

George sat near a corner stone.
Wearing a tattered overcoat
He was chewing on a chicken bone
Dreaming of days when he was afloat.

Mary and Bill sat side by side
They were gently holding hands
Dreaming of when, she was a young bride
When they travelled foreign lands.

I took my bottle from under my coat,
Took a swig to warm my inside
Shrugged from my back, my heavy tote
Rolled me a smoke, the papers had dried.

Settled me down gainst an old concrete block.
Beside me old Len slept and snored
In the distance could see, the old city clock.
Above, the passing cars roared.

In the distance I heard, people sing Silent Night
As they wended their way to warm beds.
Dreaming of Pudding, bright Christmas tree lights,
Roast chicken and pork, and freshly baked breads.

Phil on his harp blew one single chord
As snowflakes began to fall
We started to sing as with one accord.
Merry Christmas, good cheer to you all.


R. A. Spicer © 2003-09-30