Down and Out Number 2

You eager commuters you don’t see me in the shadows shivering Remembering that green door and the warm baking bread smells A king in a pocket sprung bed Beside my abdicated queen And the curly haired prince who No longer hears my song You eager commuters Forward looking I alone have Wealth and friendship Bottle shaped No idle chit-chat But whispering cold comfort in my ear and warming the broken hollows of my heart You eager commuters understand This nook is not a chosen one Not for its smells of rotting waste or its views of shoes and hemlines Of swiftly passing people Averting their lofty eyes From this pile of rag and bone That used to be a man with house and home