The days get shorter,
The air gets colder
And upon the sodden ground
Lies an old man
His only source of warmth, a blue grubby blanket
He always is alone
Without a home.

Everyone walks past with their woollen scarfs
Turning away so as not to see him
But among that selfish crowd is a little girl
Who has a flashing jumper which shines like a pearl.
She skips into the nearby shop
She reappears seconds later
With a steaming drink and a buttery biscuit
Then the rest of her money she popped into his paper cup
Slipping her scarf around her shoulder she sat down
And they had a nice chat about something or the other
Then the little girl waved with her mitten
And the old man smiled
He now felt like he had a home