Hobos in holey coats <br />Would stand around the oil drums fires <br />At Santaland, sometimes sharing a thermos <br />Of Christmas cheer and off-key caroling <br />Of "Joy to the World" <br />After all the children had gone home, <br />Until the city put up a high fence <br />Around the seasonal attraction, <br />Where a tollbooth with a charge <br />Enjoys very few visitors. <br />But no hobos bother those deserted fires. <br /> <br />Now the homeless descend on parking lots downtown, <br />Hugging the hoods of parked cars, <br />Spreading arms over the still-warm engines <br />As an angel would extend her wings before ascending <br />Into the clear, holy night.<br /><br />Lillian Susan Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hobo-s-christmas/
