by Eric Y. Theriault

No street lights brightening the nights,
or stop lights directing traffic;
Or a store open to buy fresh vegetables,
or a stove on which to cook them.

No music playing down the hall,
and no telephone to call my loved ones,
No heat to battle the cold,
and no radio or TV for the news.

Children continue to play,
Ignoring their mothers' blank faces,
For there is nothing they can say,
To make it all go away.

A candle keeps me company tonight,
All I hear is the wind against my window,
And I hope the blankets on my cold bed,
Shall keep my warm through the night.

Soldiers wander through the streets,
As if we were at war,
And no matter how much we hope,
We know tomarrow will be the same.

People capitalize in our time of need,
And causes people to turn to greed.
Yet we all need to bear,
These cold, lonely nights together.

Tonight, we are all equal.
For no matter what you own,
You are the same as those who never,
And you come to realize the true meaning of life.

Tonight people will watch us shiver on TV,
And they will state how sad it is to see,
And soon turn it off and head to their warm beds,
And soon forget all that was ever said.

But those are not the only few,
For those of us who live it through,
Before 30 days from the end of it all,
Everyone will forget these cold, lonely nights.