There’ll Be No Shelter Here

Beneath the dragging cold
desperate dreams fall and die.

Thin walls rattle with the cars,
passing bright distances.

Cracked bathroom tiles echo
each of the years gone.

Hope hides between tin cans
and frostbitten dried food,

quiet, subdued, fearful –
tied to necessity.

Wails stick to the windows,
unseen, and unheard.

Rags shield tired bodies
from nights as they stretch.

Beneath the dragging cold
desperate dreams fall and die.

therell-be-no-shelter-here

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