Monday, 25 October 2010

Heart Of The City


In the heart of the city
there are shadow people
sleeping in doorways
and lost souls bundled-up
in cardboard boxes.

The metropolis has an abundance
of street accommodations
where the fallen,
can stay down and out.
Becoming residents in rags,
never leaving home.

They are the neighbours
who brandish begging cups
to be filled with the bitter wine
of a sour community spirit.
Feeding on left-over scraps
from the kitchens of commerce,
who's fat cats,
never had to hunt for a meal
in the littered back alleyways.

And underneath damp bridges
the home-fires burn.
Sending bright embers into
the empty night, where they
fade and die in the shadows,
reminiscent of the ghosts
who haunt this place.

This is Cardboard City,
and it has no heart.
If it did have one,
it would be concrete cold
and far too hard to break.

© Raven2angel 2003 -2010
Published - Poetry Scotland Magazine

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