Get Your Premium Membership

The Waste picker

She's a little girl aging nine or ten, Short, serene, slim, with a look luminous; Obtaining no formal education, Possessing many a dream glorious; At sharp five, every morning, her day dawns, Her dirty sack she takes and off she goes; Roads, rail tracks, parks, and even private lawns, What will she get? And where? She never knows; Parents long unwell and struggling siblings, She serves them utmost with care abundant; She collects old bottles, pans, iron strings, Exchanges and makes a meager amount; Thus, the little goddess solemnly toils, Feeds all, sleeps hungry, often, full of smiles. 05/02/2021 Open Poetry 4 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Charlotte Puddifoot

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.