Through jostling crowds, she slowly made her way,The cold drizzle made pavements slippery.
For such weather, her flip-flops fared her ill
And she shivered in cold December chill
As the wet, icy wind cut through her clothes.
Unnoticed, yea unseen by all of those
In that chattering, cheerful Christmas throng.
She shrank into herself and did so long
To be lost in her isolation low.While all around bright lights and homely glowUp from wet roads and puddled pavements shone.
A merry party-going crowd came along
Careered round the corner, and knocked her o’er.
For a minute they paused, they looked and swore
Then, with much laughter, they rolled her over
Into the black overflowing gutter.
Still laughing, they hurried on and the maid
Climbed back to her feet with no one to aid –
A homeless, nameless lost immigrant girl.
But, deep in her eyes, hot anger swirled
As her small clenched fist, she raised and then shook
At bright lights and hollow warmth that forsook
Her in such a moment of dire peril.
Then silently she cursed the festival
Of a feast promising so much and yet
Was so cruel in self-centred grab and get.
Her hand fell as did tears of misery
And through festive crowds, she resumed her way.
