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  • Writer's pictureTony Frobisher

Banking in Winter

Banking in Winter

They cried into the

Darkness of an unlit room as

Silence filled the chilly air.

The radiators no longer

Creaked and the boiler

Remained idle and mute.

The only lights that

Dutifully obliged were

Those that illuminated

The bare fridge shelves

And the microwave that

Spun in morose circles,

Warming the seventh

Bowl of Value Brand

Vegetable soup that week.

And the coats and hats and gloves

Were perma-worn, inside and

Outside the bus was a sanctuary

Of the cold and hungry on another

Trip to the bank, the warm bank,

The food bank, the we can't bank

On surviving the winter.

As energy prices soared and the

Shareholders warmed themselves,

Insulated against the callous

Grip of winter by the billions

In profit Shelled out.

And the frozen millions

Remembered a time not so long ago.

B.P. - before poverty.

At least the smiles in the food bank

Were genuine and warm,

But smiles can only nourish

You so much.

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