Cold comfort

A comforter bright
both yellow and blue
like would belong
on a child’s warm bed

a light left on
to chase away fears
that sleep might be found
on a warm spring night

sleep though is troubled
and flees far away
quiet voices disturbing
growing in the night

people do gather
and stand far away
fearfully planning
of what they will do

their workplace is waiting
they need to go in
but there by the doorway
he has made his cold bed

no bed for his comfort
nor pillow for his head
laying on the cement
seeking his rest

quickly they gather
and run for the door
do quickly pass by him
and no one will look

in darkness I watch them
and wonder if once
when I was then homeless
how did they see me

and I walk by him
and go in the door
and in my passing
I give him a sad smile

now I do wonder
just where he did go
when on the doorstep
no room was there for him