You see me on the street
Dirt and grime on my feet
The pain in my eyes
Bring pity related sighs.
You don't know my name
My story, my life or how
I played the game.
It was a struggle I found
The world in which I was
Bound.
But, you drop a few pence,
And then look hence,
To a future for you
And your friends in view
You never ask my name
For my story, my life or
How I played the game.
I'm nameless to all
From my rise to my fall
But I'll remember your gift
From my perch I will lift
The change you have lent
And I promise, it's money
Well spent.
I go to the store
Buy some bread and water for
The child you did not see
The one who laid behind me.
She is my whole life
The reason I fight
through the strife.
To you, I have no name
But to her it's not the same.
She calls me her father
I call her my daughter.
I found her on the street
Dirt covering her feet.
She smiled up at me
and my heart skipped a beat.
To give her all I could
In this dangerous neighborhood
Was all I had
My hand and this sleeping bag.
You don't know my name
My story, my life
Or how I played the game.
And though I have nothing,
but this girl and some bread
It could be worse, I could be you
Instead.

Ahh, Leif, the last line here is like a punch to the gut. I don't know who this poem is about, but I'm attracted to the urgency of it. It's almost like it's being said in one breath, completely.

Heh.

I miss having you posting your works in here. And I mean that.

Hope to see you around!

-VV