The Plight of the Orphans by Jo Phelps

The child was frail and ragged that day

As she crouched down low to make her way.

The streets were typical of the seedy slums.

She leafed through the garbage for any little crumbs.

She dodged the puddles from the recent rain,

As she tried to forget her hunger pains.

Her clothes were dirty and ragged and thin –

If only some help from kith or kin!

 

If only I was warm, she said to herself.

If only I were rich and blessed with wealth.

But I have no family; no mother to care;

No home to go to; no coat to wear.

Daylight was fading as she hurried along,

Past the dingy shops and the crowded throng.

The sun was sinking; there wasn’t much light.

She must find a place to spend the night.

 

She came to a doorway and stepped inside.

She huddled in the corner and closed her eyes.

Still no food to quell the pain,

She’ll go out tomorrow and try again.

How many little ones are roaming the streets?

How many orphans will tragedy meet?

How many calls go our each day?

How many people say nay – not yea?

Few hearts are touched as they hoard their gold,

So the orphans stay homeless, hungry and cold.

 

Written January 25, 2008

By |April 5th, 2014|General, India, Malawi, Africa, Nepal, Polotsk, Belarus, Sviclock, Belarus|Comments Off on The Plight of the Orphans by Jo Phelps