The blowing cold, freezing
Looking for shelter, anywhere
Lying close together, hiding
From those elements, from the cold.
Oh for a warm blanket, soup
A plate of hot food, a sweater
Clothing for protection, a room
In a warm, dry home.
The street children, our legacy
Abandoned and unwanted, alone
With only each other for support
With only a cardboard box, for a home.
We should be filled with shame
We should be reaching out
We should be protesting their cause
We should, but we don't.