A boy of one and eight whom no one knew,
With tattered esteem and pennies
too few.
Out on a street where no
man-child grew,
With a hunger in his eyes,
waiting for rescue.
Saw him begging his heart and
soul out,
I sensed a silent cry out
in the crowd.
Scarlet me knew what this was
all about,
I could revive him, of that I
had no doubt.
I did the only thing I could, to
relieve him,
I went to him, took him out, to
take him in.
It was expected of me to make
them all sing,
The nights became darker and
days were dim.
In him his worries, I was able
to shake,
With him life was not so bad, if
not a cake.
He loved me alone, I felt it for
love’s sake,
It was much more than a mutual
give and take.
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