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The Beggar's Child . . .
by Deborah Ann Belka Shabby beggar ~ on the street, ragged clothes, naked feet holds a sign above his head "Will work for food," is all it read. The cars pass by ~ one by one, gawker's gawk at the beggar's son but, they don't see his hungry eyes nor notice the silent ~ tears he cries. Hunger pains, rest anew, a piece of bread ~ would surely do to fill the famine in his young life but those who look ~ don't see his strife. All he gets are dirty stares, and the sound ~ of their horn blares they just drive on and pass him by, he is too young ~ to understand why. He's been a beggar since he was four, learned real well ~ how to implore but, daddy tells him to just act cute and to only beg ~ for the loot. He still stood there, at the age of ten, a beggar boy ~ amongst the men a honest day of work, he can't do and those who drive by ~ know this too. His father died, or just went away, he doesn't remember much ~ about that day just one morning when he woke up . . . all he saw ~ was a beggar's empty cup. Cold and hungry ~ he continued alone, his father's alleys were now his to roam sometimes other's shared with him but, his days were dark ~ his nights grim. As the years go by ~ he's still on the street, a threadbare beggar with leathered feet standing on the corner with his tin can the beggar's child ~ is now a grown up man. But, this beggar man ~ will not just go away, like his father did on that cold dark day he no longer wanders lost and all alone not since Jesus took ~ His beggar child home! Copyright 2019 Deborah Ann Belka [email protected] www.hiswingsshadow.com http://poetrybydeborahann.wordpress.com/ TO GOD BE THE GLORY! Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |