Saturday, 26 December 2009

No Room at the Inn

The few pieces of clothing
hastily retrieved in the heat of the fire
are barely enough to shield his children from the cold.
Possessions burnt down to ashes,
dreams blown up in smoke,
now nursing memories in the chilly December wind.

The well-worn teddy bear
hastily retrieved in the heat of the moment
is the only one she can confide in.
Communication broken down in anger,
parents caught up in fights,
now walking aimlessly on a lonely December street.

The few pieces of cardboard
hastily retrieved in the heat of the day
provide them little comfort against the concrete walkway.
Heads laid down on rags,
bodies curled up in the cold,
now counting sheep on a dark December night.

Yet not far away,
in holly-decked halls
people chat,
people laugh,
people kiss,
’tis the season to be jolly;
under bright lights
champagne is popped,
glasses are clinked,
music is played,
’tis the night before Christmas.

What of the man and his family?
What of the girl and her teddy bear?
What of the vagabond and his friends?
There is no room for them at the inn.
No room.

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