Homeless in Norwich

At lunchtime Jane and I went into the cathedral, where this beautiful but sad display of 4677 knitted scarves formed a fabric home, to represent the number of homeless in the UK. See my extra photo for more info. 600 of those were knitted in black wool, to represent those homeless who died last year. It pulls at the heartstrings. I wrote this poem in my tea break. It's similar to 'Excuse Me Miss' which I wrote a fair few years ago, but not exactly the same.

'Spare Change?'

Cocooned, wasting in a wet, acrid bag.
No sleeping.
Grey eyes, lifeless. Staring.
Grey jowels sagging. He's in there,
But where?
A face worn; worn out.
An exhausted rasping plea
'Spare change?'
Soggy mattress of pizza boxes. Costa cups nearby. Empty.
As empty as the man they shroud.
Don't dismiss the mongrel. Faithful,
warming, non judgemental.
He gives hope.
'Spare change?
Coppers dropped idly. No eye contact.
No contact.
Yet most drift by in ignorance.
High street battened.
Double locked.
The darkness brings cold. A doorway.
Another sleepless night.
Hungry. Cold. Alone.
Still whispering the plea
'Spare change?'
Is he trapped in pity?
Or just trapped.
Folding back into himself,
Once again.
Cocooned.