Alone and aged, she lay on the road,
Encompassed by cold, she begged for a meal,
An abused body, an abused soul,
With an abused body, forced out by poverty,
She wiped out her sores.
It was pure magic, the way she wept,
As she saw me standing there.
A child in one hand and a rusty bowl in another,
She cradled her child in a worn our piece of leather,
Which was soaked by age and weather.
It was a challenge to hide my bread from her.
I stepped away, fighting my conscience,
Her pain trickled down and made me fight harder.
I took a step forward in and embracing manner,
To feed her tonight and to make her feel better.
Pride pulled me back, an unseen force developed by comfort,
As I felt for her, Stronger than ever.
I removed a penny and flung it at her.
A smile covered her face, for the first time since I met her.
I spent a dollar on a packet of cigarettes,
Thinking of the penny that would have bought her a feather.
I returned to her abode, under the sky,
To give her a penny before she could die.
I saw a child in a worn out piece of leather,
Surrounded by people, Cursing her dead mother.
Money, She owed them and realising, she had none,
Made me realize that it was now unto her daughter,
To be abused body and soul, To repay the debts,
The mother had left.
She would have a daughter to carry on her work,
Without a father to carry her home.
Dreams would be dreamt and pains would be felt,
But that one smile still leads me away.
I dream of being aged and lonely,
Sitting on the road encompassed by the cold.