They live in
cardboard boxes,
they sleep on benches
in the city park,
they have to suffer
with -40 degree weather,
having no place
else to go.
They depend on
local food banks
for their daily meals
and wish for someone
walking by,
to give spare change,
for something hot to drink.
I wish there were
some other way to
help them out in the
harsh weather of winter,
our governments don't care,
whether they live or die,
just one less
hungry mouth to feed.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Jan.14/2004
Your poem inspired me.
Marica