At Christmas
the high street fills
with people buying presents
for loved ones at home.
The air wraps us in festivity:
Jingle Bells spilling from shops,
cinnamon and nutmeg,
prickly holly, steaming cups,
hot chestnuts and icy snowflakes.
But not everyone is going home.
Some don’t have one.
Some don’t feel safe.
Some can’t be who they really are.
Care leavers
in student halls,
learn the sound of campus
once everyone’s gone.
Old people wait for the post,
hoping for cards
that never come.
Loneliness doesn’t make a fuss.
It just sits down and stays.
A knock on the door.
A text saying,
Fancy a cuppa?
The card you almost didn’t send.
And suddenly
Christmas
isn’t quite so cold.
BARBED WORDS 