I saw him and gave a weeks worth to buy food to himself and to his little companion, (the dog licked thankfully (?)my hand).
But the image of them haunted me and forced my hand to write what my heart felt.

Christmas went and Santa didn’t come,
nor Rudolph the rein with the red nose,
no Christmas tree at the end of the alley,
where fingers and toes get cold and froze.

If one kept on wearing rags shredded by time,
can one call them to be the poor man clothes?
that everyone, passing by, don’t looks twice,
just hurry a little more fast, and then…ignore.

Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! to you all!
this Holyday Season had hunger for a few more,
in the company of a never complaining little dog
even the right to the American dream forgoes.

Yes it was Christmas, without family or friends,
not a nice way to awake on Christmas Eve, alone,
with the only warm coming from inside the church
where they celebrate the birth of the Father’s Son.

Back in the alley he will hold the little pet in his arms
sharing with the trembling dog his vanishing warmth,
feeling the despair for a long night, but knowing that
Santa at least had found, for his little brother, a bone.

Christmas came…and went, and you get another year,
to wander the streets until the next wearing red roses,
another lonely Holy Night like this one will come or,
an angel will take both where there is that final love.