It’s cold and how the wind blows chill.

Nor all the comfort in a paper bag

can hide my fears or help me through the night.

How have I come to this low place in life where

none will smile at me or hold my hand?

Is there no comfort or no love of man,

found in this city, with its freezing wind?

The beat of feet on side walks, smoky cars,

all the chatter and the sweet perfume,

can never hide or mask the soulless tide

of people walking past my lonely seat.

They do not see me if they do they pass

without a pause or backwards glance,

there I am left to sit alone and lost,

among a crowd of them who want me not.

Take care, you, who seek the cities warmth.

It is not there except in your minds eye.

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria, January, 1991