She shuffles and scuttles quickly along beating her way, through the Christmas throng
The north wind cutting her mottled face But shes not part of the Christmas race For things not needed, luxurious, unwise Her mind fixed on the price and size Of a winter coat in that Oxfam place, she prays its still there, she quickens her pace.
The bell dings-a-ling as she opens the door Not feeling her legs so tird and sore Like a long lost friend it waits on the rail she thanks her god its still for sale.
Her hurry finished, her purchase complete She focuses now on something to eat
To the corner shop she makes to go happier now , her step is slow bread and milk ,this and that two tins of food for her little cat
Home at last her mission complete She models her coat and warms her feet She cuddles her cat and locks her door She makes their tea and she cuddles him more
She dims the light her prayers are said She thanks her god for her winter coat that doubles as a duvet for her bed.