They come, one by one

When shutters of shops are down,
lights are out,
the parking spaces
in front of the shops
are clearing out,
they come, one by one,
in their tattered clothes,
with a sheet or a blanket
to spread on the floor to sleep out.

They do not talk.
Sometime so burdened down
with life, they cannot walk.
They need some sleep fast
before next dawn they
are chased out.
The blessed ones, the kingdom
of heaven belongs to them.
But on earth, they’re the scum.