Every day became a routine. At 5.30am the fishermen would come and turn the boat. Darcy would scramble out, gathering up her Red Cross blanket, and run up the hill to the railway station to stash the blanket in her locker.

Abrupt awakening, den laid bare

Daylight pierces night’s cocoon

Cat-calls taunt and feed her fear

Rapid exit, none too soon

Hands that reach to grab her arm

Do not emit compassionate charm

At 6.00am the station buffet was open for early morning tea, and if any buns or rolls were left over from the day before, the staff usually gave them to the homeless. Darcy was always first in line.

After breakfast, Darcy would take up her position at the station entrance, asking the commuters for loose change and an early morning newspaper. Then, when she had enough to make telephone calls and either buy a meal or wash her clothes at the launderette, she would dive into the ladies room for a wash and change. It was time to go job hunting.

Door to door, the same request

Office blocks, cafes, shops and bars

Responses seemed to be as one

‘til finally she’s washing cars

Paltry pay for full valets

A vicious circle’s new forays

Pennies earned from daily graft

Feed greedy slots in launderette

Costs of which now escalate

To care for clothing grimed and wet

The efforts of such enterprise

Become a pointless exercise

Darcy had become very disillusioned with life in the city. She just couldn’t get a decent break. She fed her last coin into the dryer and looked at the clock on the wall. It would soon be time to get back to the boat, before someone else commandeered it.