It was a short night's welcoming,
Between the glass and tile,
When I was born upon this earth,
And all was cold and still.

And do they now remember it -
Teachers, children small,
TV and radio, all-year shops -
The ox and ass's stall?

With outcasts on the street I dwell,
No place to lay my head -
Forgotten by the folks who pass
Where I stand in their stead

Betrayed, rejected and despised,
My love spills out like blood,
And I, the makers of all things,
Am -
by the world -
Forgot -

Daphne Wilshere 1998

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