Christmas is coming.
The turkeys quaking in their boots.
The ***** sits in the subway.
He's cursing mental health, it's roots.
He's dreaming of filling his boots.
Delusions full up with Christmas lunches.
Mistletoe and holly bunches.
A predilection for unwrapping gifts.
A bottle of wine.
** ** **.
The rocking in the shop front.
Tambourine in hand.
Busking Christmas carols.
Somehow basking in the season.
A reason to go on.
Smiling with his very best Santa Claus grubby grin.
Must be the festive mood he's in.
A night on the tiles.
In the doorway.
Still homeless.
Still lonely.
He does his best to be accepted.
No passers by ever join in.
Not even making conversation.
(c)LIVVI