Poem by Fin Hall

Cold Chicken

Its raining, and windy
no shelter from the cold
I’m ailing, though young still,
I am really feeling old
Christmas is coming,
I still can’t find a home
No money, no shelter
Wandering the streets alone
My shoe won’t stop leaking
my toes are turning green
My stomach is so empty
I wish that I was clean
Searching through the rubbish
For something nice to eat
A leftover chicken leg
A succulent, seasonal treat
Nourishing, but still hungry
What else is there to do?
I approach a stranger and say
“A merry Xmas to you.”

Here is the video of Fin reading the poem: https://youtu.be/V3IKFdKJm8E

Fin Hall is from New Pitsligo, in the North East of Scotland. He has been writing since the early 70’s. He hosts a Zoom Event called Like A Blot From The Blue. Fin's work mainly focuses on social issues as well as reflective personal stories. 

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