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Child Of The Street
15 February, 2004
Author: Bench

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The poor child sleeps
In the middle of the pavement,
Curled up like a fetus
In a mother's womb,
Oblivious to the din
Happening around him,
Wearied from a long day's begging.
Yet even in sleep
The poor child works,
A dirty cup laid out in front.
Hoping to get a few more cents
From generous passers-by,
Praying to be left in peace
By those heartless policemen,
Wishing that he'll live one more day
So he could beg some more.

The tinkle of the occassional coin
Wakes the tired, little child up.
And he gives a feeble smile
In return for his benefactor's generosity.
His eyes light up
Like a rich child's on Christmas morn
Because every cent means
A little more morsel of food
To make the pain
Of an empty stomach go away.
And in the morning,
The poor child is off
To a fresh start,
Knocking on car windows
In the middle of the busy avenue
Hoping to earn a few more cents.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

heaven (68.43.99.209) -- Tuesday, February 17 2004, 11:03 pm

this poem is so true

WOW.this is a very real poem.me living in detroit see this alot on the streets and i always try 2 help.im glad that u have spoken up about it.-heaven-
bench (192.168.0.172) -- Thursday, February 19 2004, 06:25 am

so true

thanks heaven! i live in the philippines and the situation is bad here! i just hope i captured their plight in such a few words.
Meridian Z. (152.163.252.162) -- Monday, February 23 2004, 06:15 pm

Around the world, this is what happens in everyday life

Bench, that is true. A whole lot of people just pass by the homeless. It would be a blessing just to see someone who is fortunate, to buy them some food and clothes, or better yet, take them in.
 
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