Here’s a picture of my holly wreaths I’m busy making for our lovely customers in the shop.
We’ve put our tree up now, it’s covered in snow and covered in white lights. I want to dedicate this post to all homeless people. I couldn’t imagine not being able to come home to our loved ones and have a cosy fire and warm food.
A homeless man in Totnes, Devon died last night. He’d been offered accomodation, but refused it as he had been living on the street for so long and didn’t want to move from the town he was in. How sad to be alone and have nowhere to live. The angels who give up their time and energy to give out soup and sandwiches to street people need to be in our thoughts this time of year as well.
We seem to be in a Dickensian period again, with rich people at one end of the scale, then homelessness, food banks and poverty at the other end. With this post I’m sending prayers to all homeless people, hoping they find some comfort this season. To the people who give them a warm drink, food and a friendly smile, special thoughts for them too.
Here’s a poem I wrote after visiting a seaside resort, and seeing an old lady. It made me shudder to see her.
FEAR.
I fear the old woman
surrounded by bags;
Who sits on a bench
In layers of rags,
Watching the sea
In a trance.
Far away in
Another place,
Reminiscing of a time
When she meant something
To somebody.
Layers of clothes
Tied up with string,
Like a parcel that
Wasn’t delivered, nobody wanted.
Expressionless, emotionless.
She doesn’t see or hear;
Except for the sea
Sparkling clearly,
Reminding her, showing
That she holds dearly.
I fear the old woman
In layers of clothes,
Who sits on a bench
Watching the sea.
Someone’s mother,
someone’s wife,
Whatever happened
In her life,
Ending up, watching the sea.
As I walk past
I shudder inside,
I could be her,
She could be me.
That lonely old woman
Wrapped up in rags.
Susan Jones - Writer 
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