She is clad in a little torn frock,
At her people often mock.
She has no place to live in,
And is often seen near a dustbin.
She has no shoes to wear,
So her feet are always bare.
Yes, it is the poor little street urchin.
Such a sweet child she is,
With a smile that no one would miss.
Her straight unkept hair,
Clearly shows the loss of love and care.
She must be just seven or eight,
And definitely underweight.
I was deeply moved by the pitiful sight,
And then and there made a decision very right.
I decided I would give her a share of my meal,
At least her hungry stomach it would heal.