A Time Known As Christmas Poem by jane solanrobertson

He crouches
His young back stiff with cold
Fingers and heart deathly numb
Amid the rush of busy feet
At a time known as Christmas.
His empty stomach rumbles.
He keeps a song in his head
From a happier time
When family life meant more than pain.
For such betrayal leaves a scar
Far worse than a blow from an old man's bottle.
Of course to you he's just a scrounger.
Now, as the biting snow falls
His song will see him through
As he blends into the shadows
Of your perfect Christmas card scene.