Christmas At the Shelter
Its Christmas Eve
he stands in line with snowflakes in his hair
with men and women tired and lost
whom life did not treat fair
He gazes at the shuffling mob
that crowd the city street
lining up at heaven's door
their evening feast to eat
His winter coat is much too thin
for winter's angry chill
his feet are cold in ragged shoes
he stole from homeless Bill
Inside the hall the light is bright
he smells the Yuletide feast
good tidings from the gentle folk
for those who have the least
He takes his meal and finds a seat
amongst the humble souls
who bow their heads and praise their God
while buttering their rolls
A pair of socks and a pack of smokes
are the gifts that will brighten his day
as he eats his pudding of raisins and figs
and clasps his hands to pray
As the clock strikes nine
they file outside back to the streets of dismay
these homeless folk - these lambs of God
with the hopes of a brighter day..
Copyright © Valerie Bellefleur | Year Posted 2008
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