there was a worn carpet laid on bare boards
holding only the centre of the room
two chairs either side of the open fire
a sofa & a high table we sometimes ate at
curtained windows either end
that in winter had frost on the inside
my little room had cowboys on the paper
thick rough blankets & in winter coats piled on too
it is the biting cold I remember most
cold feet on cold floors cold coming in
cold going out cold weather cold people
cruel carers who took the money & ran
& these would steal my few toys for their kids
nothing stayed nothing stuck mother run away
father always absent a ghost figure tired pale
& I never knew from one day to next
would any of these be there when I got home
within the walls of this cold place of no food
always gut hungry for anything going
& now when they say you ever coming home?
I tell them I find the north too cold prefer the south
& they try to tell me I’m a too sensitive soul
but we know better I’m a soul with strong memories
remembers the cold remembers how it lingers on
It’s cold up north!
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