Sunday, 23 October 2011


Pillows of concrete, blankets of sky.

Fitful sleeping as life tip toes by.

Meagre handouts paid for dinner tonight,

Some soup and a roll, a feast? Not quite.

Morning comes early, before you are rested,

Woken by footsteps, your existence detested

By those who are going about their own business,

Closing those deals that will make them their riches.

Little and plenty side by side on the street,

Both breath the same air, same dirt on their feet.

Both born of this world of woman and man,

All born to be equal, well that was the plan.

And as the haves and have not’s bed down for the night,

For some feather duvets will be a most welcome sight.

But for some far less lucky I’m afraid it’s no lie,

There’ll be pillows of concrete and blankets of sky.

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