The Poor Souls Of The Station Poem by Francis Duggan

On the high ramp above old Belgrave station
I see them after dark if i walk through
A group of up to fifteen boys and girls
Perhaps they do not have homes to go to.

They drink beer and swap stories in a huddle
The eldest scarcely seventeen years old
I often wonder in that dim lit walk way
How they don't catch pneumonia from the cold.

On the walk way above old Belgrave station
They lose their innocence before it's time
The youngest scarcely thirteen maybe younger
They will feel old before they reach their prime.

They spend their winter evenings by the station
Drinking and chatting in the cold and damp
Already they have faced life's toughest challenge
The poor souls of the station walking ramp.

Rumour has it that at nearby 'Puffing Billy' station
In cold steam train carriages they sleep the night
And i don't envy them their sleeping quarters
That is of course if rumour has it right.

I've often wondered have they homes to go to
For who could wish to live in such a way
The meeting place of eastern suburbs homeless
Is Belgrave doomed to be Sherbrooke's Bombay? .

'Dear god' forgive me i must be quite useless
I cannot help them in their poverty
I feel for the poor lost souls of the station
But they need more far more than sympathy.

On the high ramp above old Belgrave station
I see them after dark if i walk through
A group of up to fifteen boys and girls
Perhaps they do not have homes to go to? .