Empty Bowls

With a thin and outstretched arm,
eyes agape with none it stares,
drained of all but a beating heart,
she hopes a farthing unsure to come,

Her hands are empty, her tummy complains,
worries soon washed aside when it rains,
she rushes under the bridge she calls home,
but slaps and shouts send her back out,

Drenched and delirious, she's hoping again,
against the great odds of a heavy rain,
fate kind this once, she gets her some bread,
and thereafter deemed to have earned her bed,

But time and sleep cannot quench hunger,
and she wakes and roams till it is supper,
empty bowls and harsh reality once more greet her,
she goes back to sleep and dream of dinner.

childchild abusepovertyquatrain

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