Holly Wood Poet Pantoum

Just Desserts

This day I wander frozen streets
As cold March rain chills my skin
I cannot sense with hands or feet
Nor hear much of the morning’s din

As cold March rain chills my skin
I cannot see the path ahead
Nor hear much of the morning’s din
I long for warmth and to be fed

But I cannot see the path ahead
Empty pockets guide my every step
I long for warmth and to be fed
And so I’ve, onward, slowly crept

Empty pockets guide my every step
Till I reach the place, I’ve no recourse
So I’ve, onward, slowly crept
 Not the product of feeling, just of force

Until I reach the place, I’ve no recourse
Damp paycheck gripped in shaking hand
No product of feeling, just of force
I journey through the frozen land
Damp paycheck gripped in shaking hand
I cross the threshold into light
Having journeyed through a frozen land
I’ve seen to the task and made it right

And cross the threshold, from the light
Towards streets packed with winter’s foam
I’d seen to the task and made it right
And so begin my journey home

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