Christmas Coach
Christmas Eve
Night-time shift
Number Eight Loop
Crystal drift
Bus a-humming
Toasty warm
Pulling over
Waving arm
She a mother
Stroller too
Baby bundle
All in blue
Tears were present
Face was flushed
Folding door would
Groan when pushed.
Can you help me
But no cash
Had to make
A fearful dash.
Boyfriend livid
High on dope
Jobless Christmas
Little hope.
“Come in Sweetheart
Shut the door”
All of this
He’d seen before.
Blanket tucked in
Precious kiss
Harvey whistling
“What child is this?”
Let her rest here
Newfound friend
Women’s shelter
At the end.
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