cold

The fireplace is cold as ice

The chimney has no soot

No curtains on the window

Floor freezing to the foot

No presents on this Christmas day

The children stay in bed

Mother with her cider jar

Sleeping like she’s dead

Daddy new every week

They never hang around

To watch her humanity

In cheap liquor drown

Welfare state is aware

Though constrain by rules

Cobbled by politician

And followed by fools

Eyes once cried now are dry

The world is grey to see

Between the wanting of food

And passing cruelty

But they have to get up

And slowly up they get

From the soiled bedclothes

They constantly wet

They pray to God but don’t believe

Deliverance from all sin

But they don’t want new parents

Or an orphanage put in

Just one day all heroin

Alcohol and cocaine

Could be pumped into the gutter

Not into her vein

The children venture to her room

Look down on the filthy bed

Stroking her bloodstained hair

And cradling her head

Will she wake this Christmas?

Will she wake up well?

Will she break those habits?

Only time will tell