Winning Poem

She gazed at the Christmas trees
lighting up the street,
she wished that she could swap with those families,
but there was nothing for her,
she was nothing but a filthy ragamuffin,
crouching in a reeking corner,
caked in snow and dust,
whilst the sleigh bells laughed their sad laugh,
and all that she could do was hope,
for there was nothing for her,
nothing to spare on Christmas eve,
nothing for that one poor soul.
There was noting for her.