Povertys Abyss

Her skin is rough from the weather she faces every day,
a blur of coming and going because she has no where to stay.
A transient, one that ventures the world with one thing in mind,
a warm shelter or a place to rest is all she wishes to find.
Her belly growls, which make her, fall to her knees,
and she holds her hands out giving a hunger filled plea.
Tears run down her eyes as most people pass her by,
and she bows her head knowing the reason why.
Schooled at begging she knows little more then this,
for this world she lives in is surrounded by poverty’s abyss.
As coins drop on her dirt cloth she lies on the street,
she hides her treasurers like she has done some highest feet.
She will eat this night, which is different from many times before,
telling herself her fantasies that she is no longer be poor.
The coins are a small band aide for the biggest wound of all,
for if she can’t learn from life she will never climb this lonesome wall.
Behind every hole or rock they she will ever sleep,
there is one hope she must constantly keep.
There is help out there maybe closer then she can see,
but she needs to understand, life is more then just to be free.
There are choices that need to be made and some one to understand,
for the truest salvation of poverty is given when you apply your self with your own hand.
Still I would be foolish if I did not say this to you,
that maybe one check shy of being this way too.
So give when you can but know the true decision is theirs’ to bare,
for it is not a crime to reach out your hand and care.