Christmas Eve Downtown Poem by Fay Slimm

Her face looked used, with sunken cheeks somewhat
Abused from too much rouge, her eyes wore hoods.

She was no more than a wraith, and squatting
As thin was a child in a cart, old food
Dried on his mouth, stuck down, cemented
With run from his nose, he looked frozen, large
Eyes cowered from rain which dripped from dented
Pram roof, money already the prime charge
Of the day, they would wait until shop shutters
Were down. Christmas Eve homeless have to stay put.

Underground downtowners, in cardboard houses
Face their lot while numbers increase, and daily
They plead some empathy might be aroused.
Is Christmas cheer only for those who feel able?