I make my bed
on the street
Curled in a doorway
under your feet
You step over me
we're unlikely to meet
I'm covered in newspaper or plastic
as my sheet
trying to hold onto
just a small amount of heat
Kelowna's councillors
they are so wise
They vote to shield
your delicate eyes
But where should we go
can't they hear our cries
Don't they realize
they too one day
could fall from their highs
Then they might hope
a different logic applies
Vote on solutions
We too want a home
Do you think this is our first choice
here in a doorway all alone
We want food and comfort
you offer hearts cold as stone
Call up the ticket giver
with your dumbphone!
Groan that you don't feel safe
as I inconveniently suffer and moan.
So next time
When you walk down the street
It will only be rich people you'll meet
I won't be sitting with a cup
begging for something to eat
the ghost you couldn't see anyway
will finally be beat
Or maybe if you really cared
I'd have a place to sleep
with a bed and roof
and yes a bit of precious heat.
Richard J. Lamoureux