I sat looking at my tree
Its scratched branches held
But tinsel fashioned from old foil
"Grease still smelt"
Hunger,
Wanting,
Warmth
"Needed in the cold morning"
Bottle caps, coloured adorned the
End of bare branches. If I smelt each one
Flavours of ill afforded treats,
The stomachs, roar as in a pride
Of hunger, growling at others to show their need,
"Sammy's Sarnies"
"We wait on empty promises"
Then the door "ajar" wrapped bread throw out
"As if feeding rabid animals"
"The door slams shut"
We scatter,
"Each for themselves"
"There is no honour in hunger"
Mouldy,
Stale,
Relishing
That others would throw out,
"This is the Christmas on the street"
"Our trees of bare branches"
"Adorned with found things"
Now added to the huddling circles
The caps release faint odours
As the foil burns,
I taste in the air what was,
That now burns too keep each warm in this pride
Of the street, tomorrow our roars will
Once again roar loud, but tonight
It is about only keeping warm.