Here is Ian McMillan's sonnet.

It's not much to ask. Just a door to lock.

A door that won't break when someone kicks it.

Door with a keyhole. Respond to that knock

Or not. My choice. It's broke so let's fix it:

The world, I mean. Not the door. That's OK.

It's my door, to my room. Look here's the key.

The world, though. That's different. Somewhere to stay

Is what we all need. Somewhere to be me

And not just someone you blithely ignore

When you see me sleeping on the street.

Let's begin with this. A door. Just a door

To start with. A door. Food. Then light and heat.

The world must respond to this simple truth:

Let's all have a door. Let's all have a roof.