New year in London.
I laugh until the air has gone,
And I gasp to draw some in.
Speaking makes me happy,
My smile shines from within.
But tear drops stream shamelessly
On cheeks that are too old,
to bear the sight of homelessness
Among streets paved with gold.
Beneath a worn out blanket,
Grey hair fringed with ice.
She looked up with suspicion
It didn’t feel so nice.
A sad eyed lonely Grandma
out under a winter sky,
without a pot to piss in
Or a friend to hear her cry.
The new year bell was tolling,
party goers walked along
None spared a moment
To hear this woman’s song.
Thank you for the image found unnamed on the internet.
Ellenbest24 
Good morning, Ellen….this is superb…You have captured what is actually happening in London…It’s so easy for those with gold in their pockets to pretend that none of the ‘other side’ exists. I was born in London at the beginning of 1946 right after the war, and although the UK and of course London was suffering greatly from the bombings, etc. of WW2 – there was always a sense that people cared for one another, but sadly I feel as the gap between those who have far too much, and those who have far too little, widens….the old London…a city of compassion seems to be evaporating.
Thank you so much. Janet.
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Thank you. I love that you took time to comment. Your observatins and personal memories make my writing richer.
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You are most welcome:)
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Sad and thoughtful. What are we doing in the New Year? Are we merely thinking of ourselves? Thank you for giving me something to consider. 🙂
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When one walk down the wrong street changes everything. Thank you for your comment. 😇
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But sad and extremely beautiful
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Thank you 😇
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Welcome 😉
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It’s so sweet!💖
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