Music of the soul

by Nikki McLoughkin, 17, England

 

Summers gone, Oh how i wished it lingered on,
the dark gray skies are over head,
the old have taken to there beds,
in their blankets they enfold,
to try and beat the winters cold,
a neighbour knocks upon the doors,
old bill's not been seen for a week or more,
the neighbours stand all in dismay,
it's poor old bill i hear them say,
a man who thought so brave and bold,
now to die of winters colds,
so come on people, get it right,
or more may die of winters bite,
maybe tonight