Jonny, or Jimmy perhaps?

Feather-frosted tendrils reach their insistent fingers
Into all the nooks and crannies, and slowly and gently
Siphon away all the warmth, leaving behind an empty
Blue chill, a lack of colour and golden light, and
Replacing it with a silver sliver, a razor-like
Blade of cold, of ice and crystal-flowers, and
Welcoming lazily the wandering snowflakes as they
Swirl and drift in the wind.
As the seconds go by, the ticking clock measures
The inch-built-snowdrift, and the world
Fades into a muted soundtrack, muffled
And dull, the passing tyres caressed
And carried on the white carpeted road.

And do you remember, you, sat by your fire?
You, with a beer by your side, and your
Cigarettes ready rolled in a tin?
Do you remember the man you walked
Past, today, at the bus station?
Do you? Do you wonder where he is now?
Is he huddled in a doorway, or lying,
Past shivering or caring on a bench
Somewhere?
Because we all forget. And we should never forget.

© 2ndwitch, 13/01/15

Written as a sort of memorial to someone I read about, and to express a contrast that often strikes me. It is not the very rich, secure and immune to the pain of those with nothing, that provide the harshest contrast - but it is the working man, the working woman, who are only a few steps from the doorway themselves, it is he or she who present the contrast to me.

The path the badger trod.

Have you ever wondered why?
Just why - when you see a mother
Look down at her child
And smile.
Just why - when one person looks
At a another with
An expression that words
Cannot define.
Just why - when the wild birds
Fly, and land, and fly and land
Again
And again.
Just why - when the waves wash
The pebbled shore twice
Each day,
Whatever the weather.
Just why - when the leaves grow
And grow and then
Die.
Just why.
And then you realise.
That is why.

© 2ndwitch, 04/01/15