A Poem About Being Homeless in the Cold

A Poem About Being Homeless in the Cold

Over the last few days, it has been really cold up here in Canada. Yesterday, it was as bad as minus 26 Celsius, and today, it’s expected to be slightly better.

Anyof my personal inconveniences do not even compare to the daily struggles that homeless people deal with each day. They’re just trying to survive through the winter.

Crying Wind

She woke this morning,
with a cold winter chill.
Her bones were aching,
she knew the drill.

A hearty breakfast,
a mere step away.
Yet so far,
her memories are grey.

The furious wind,
punched her red cheeks.
A warm soft voice,
has not heard for weeks.

She gathered her things,
and headed for work.
The coldest feeling,
each passing smirk.

Not proud of much,
but this corner she chose.
Broken soul and shoes,
she could not feel her toes.

She begs passersby,
just to simply survive.
They don’t notice her pain,
while texting and drive.

She could have been more,
and avoided the cold.
Most of her life,
into abuse she was sold.

Just like the rest of us,
slowly she’s dying.
But when we’re asleep,
in the wind she is crying.

by tree.cards