Support the Whitechapel Centre, Liverpool

She leans against the doorway.

Her clothes are soaked and thin.

Her hair has seen no brush for years.

Her eyes hold loss within.

She doesn’t hold her head up.

She doesn’t think she should.

She wishes she was far away.

She’s frozen where she’s stood.

Her bag is on her shoulder.

She carries all she owns.

She tries to hold her cough in.

She shudders and she moans.

Her home is where her feet are.

Her blanket is the sky.

Her mind has shut itself in.

Her chances have passed by.

She only wants a warm meal.

She wants a bed that’s dry

She wants a hand to hold hers.

Can you help her? Will you try?


Today the prompt is to write a poem in which each line except the last takes the form of a single, declarative sentence. Then, the final line should take the form of a question.

This is the Whitechapel Centre Liverpool which helps rough-sleepers. Help them if you can:

4 thoughts on “Support the Whitechapel Centre, Liverpool

  1. “Her home is where her feet are.
    Her blanket is the sky.”

    You know…you are so good with rhyme that some may me that you have some real poet chops.


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