The Beggar

I looked at her, as I had looked at her kind, fleetingly.
Yet, in that instant, my eyes caught something.

I looked at her again.
Had she been….. Is she beautiful?

Was once when she made hearts, even one,
Beat with longing and expectation?

Does she know love,
To want and be wanted in return?

Where are her dreams,
The jewels she hung around her neck as Morpheus took her in his step?

Is there still lightness in her heart,
The sun that shines from within that uplifts and inspires?

I looked at her again
And all I saw was a shell.

What went so terribly that
Life carved cruel lines into her face?

I saw regret etched on her face,
Her body weighted by the world.

In her eyes glowed a longing,
A sickening desire for a quick end, methinks.

Or a miracle, any miracle
That would remedy all in a flash.

Wistful and beaten,
Off she shuffled to…..sit and wait.

Made too inhuman to offer naught
But a feeble plea

For alms, for grace
From a world too busy with itself.

I looked at her,
Then away.

Onwards once again,
Drawn into the oblivion of life.

(First appeared:


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