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..