We do not see them but they are there
Huddled on benches
Keeping warm in the Colorado air.
We do not see them but they are there
Lining up for blocks to get their children out of the cold
If only for one night.
We do not see them even when they are right there
Asking for some spare change,
Maybe for a meal for their starving child, ribs protruding through the skin.
We do not see them but they are there
Getting desperate, getting cold, hungry
We want to see them
Now they are gone,
All that is left is the lonely bench with nothing and no one to warm it.
