by Debra Valley

Created on: September 09, 2008

COLD
The hamattan has come
So also have the rains gone
I'm thankful I have a home
To stop me getting chilled to the bone
Even though it's not as cold as snow
Nor does it present a fragile show;
Although the selfish of the rich would never mind
If the poor have only rags to bind
Just to keep from freezing
While they try dozing
Every night on the streets
Where bodies have lost spirits,
Right through the night
Before the dawn of light
Where now dead bodies lay
When the night before day
While lying on street slates
The poor lay slain
On the ground so like stone
By the merciless cold
We don't need to be told
That something should be done.

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