Christmas Eve Poem by Tex T Sarnie

It's been dark outside for what seems like hours,
but it's much, much, darker in here.
I have to imagine that I'm somewhere else that's safe,
away from any danger that may come near.

Like an unleashed arrow a blast of icy cold wind
has hit my face through the unsecured flap.
I've just pulled my woolly hat over my ears,
and with my knee, I've pushed the flap back.

I'm trying to keep warm by breathing warm air
onto my fingers and into my limited space.
Also by rubbing my hands together quickly,
then pulling my clothes over my hands and face.

I don't need reminding that I am hungry,
my stomach's making sure I don't forget.
Loud rumbling noises are echoing inside of me,
telling me that it's over two days since I've ate.

I've begun to chew cardboard for the sake of it,
I don't swallow, I just get the taste then spit it out.
But that lets the cold, cold, air into my space again,
and this cursed stomach cramp I can well do without.

To stop draughts my trousers are tucked into my holey socks,
and pieces of card are in my shoes to stop leaks.
I won't go into detail about my hygiene,
but I confess that I do most certainly reek.

I can't sleep and I have no idea what time it is,
as far as I'm concerned it's the middle of the night.
It's cold outside and I can hear the sound of raindrops,
and there's nothing worth seeing till daylight.

To be perfectly honest I've had better Christmas's,
with a turkey dinner, full trimmings, fine company, and all.
I suppose things could be a whole lot better
than a bed in a box, and the snow about to fall.