Concrete Tomb

Neath an underpass
Sheltered concrete tomb
Lonesome the whistle
Piercing like dark mass
In shadows, I’m home

Chilled winds fill my bones
Knotted fingers clasp
Pull me to her warmth
Still the sounds echo
Desperate in their grasp

Tattered shawl we share
Wistful our minds play
The Prince battles fierce
Dragons in the lair
To make the world safe

Hollow his lips taste
In dreams, festive laid
Golden bowls brimming
Rich creams we make haste
His hunger sated

The stench of charred filth
Smudged noses peering
Fires through the night
Rusted barrel hearth
Homeless candlelight

Beaten she is game less
Angry are her tears
Want for an answer
Resilient unfelled
Aged beyond her years

Tale too familiar
Blended silhouettes
Of faces unknown
Wanting to falter
Dignity repressed

Of prayers, unanswered
Regardless their Faith
Seeking redemption
Cursed is our manse
Wishful for your Grace

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