Christmas Coach

Twelfth Month Joy

Christmas Eve

Night-time shift

Number Eight Loop

Crystal drift

Bus a-humming

Toasty warm

Pulling over

Waving arm

She a mother

Stroller too

Baby bundle

All in blue

Tears were present

Face was flushed

Folding door would

Groan when pushed.

Can you help me

But no cash

Had to make

A fearful dash.

Boyfriend livid

High on dope

Jobless Christmas

Little hope.

“Come in Sweetheart

Shut the door”

All of this

He’d seen before.

Blanket tucked in

Precious kiss

Harvey whistling

“What child is this?”

Let her rest here

Newfound friend

Women’s shelter

At the end.

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