You, who have no home and no soft place to lay your head,
Do you have memories to keep you warm on cold dark nights?
Do you dream of other days when you sheltered in a home
With family and friends to share your fire?
Did you think then of others who lived out on the streets
Bereft of all they once held dear?
Did you ever think that someday you would end up there?
Now you wonder, "How did I come to this?
Will the world be poorer at my passing? Who will care?"
Now tormenting cold seeps through your ragged clothes
As nightfall brings its penetrating chill.
In the long night hunger adds its pangs to unforgiving stone
And again you wonder, "How did I come to this?"
Sometimes a shelter offers food, a bed and a friendly word,
But others are uncaring and do not see your pain.
As time goes by you die another death each day
And wonder through the depths of your despair,
"Will the world be poorer at my passing? Who will care?"