Happy Holidays, are here again,
As he crawls, into a cardboard box,
To keep dry, and wring out,
His wet sox.

At a distance, he can hear, The jingling bell,
Of a corner Santa,
And exchanges of meaningful,
Season Greetings.

He clinched his teeth, fighting back,
Many tears,
For he cannot control,
Memories of past years,

The smiles, of his grandchildren,
As he once handed, their awaiting gifts,
He visioned their fantasies,
On their lovely faces.

As he search in darkness, For his dry blanket,
Within his sheltered box,
And for the bottle, to keep,
At least his thoughts, in dryer places.

By: William Bonilla

Being homeless, is no joke,
This year, lets try to share,
with some, A little hope,
Remember "Our Jesus Christ" was homeless,
At the time of his birth,