'In your arms' and 'Cold Streets'

In your arms. 


I wake up thinking of you,

and drag through the day...

through dull routines and boring speeches,

wishing I were in your arms.


I walk home in the evening, thinking of you.

I get the shopping, do the chores,

sit staring at the screen,

and I was...I was...in your arms.


I stand and watch the water flow,

I walk down the quay,

I go to my café for tea,

still wishing I were in your arms.


Cold Streets


There’s no escape, no shelter.

The rain falls relentlessly.

I’m hungry, someone please feed me

before I perish on the cold streets.


The rain makes me want to die.

There’s no one to hear;

everyone hurries by,

hidden by rain gear.


I sit in a doorway,

watching Garda vans go by.

There’s been a stabbing down the road.

I sit alone and cry.


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