Ruth Evans

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Down and out and filled with doubt the sleepy homeless lie, in wet woolly coats done up to their throats, a warm home is for what they’d die.

And as the coins drop, from the generous lot, a small ray of hope they see, for that means some food to fuel their soul, or a hot steaming cup of tea.

But ponder as we might, on this frosty cold night, how someone can lose their own home, the answer you see, is plain unto me how they’ve ended up cold and alone.

For they were once like you and me, with their own family, some happier times they once shared, and through no fault of their own, they’ve ran out of luck and now it seems nobody cares.

So remember next time, through the muck and the grime, the friendly face down there with no shoes, needs a smile and a care, and just wants to share and could very easily be you .
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