A small child hides in the shadows
Bones showing where ragged clothes
Expose its thin body.
Its eyes watch the lives that pass by
Keeping their own eyes averted.

An old man stands in the alley
Beside a restaurant, the very air a torture
To an ever-present hunger.
Waiting for the under chef to appear
With scrapings that are tonight's banquet.

A dog limps past a warehouse
Whimpering at the cold and the thirst
A twisted leg, hanging
Lapping at a puddle of muddy water
Finding the strength to live another day.

A great Lady looks down
The pain and the suffering blight her heart
Tears fall as the rain
Child, man, dog. None see that they are loved.
That each is valued in their Mother's eyes.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Phaestian, in the year 399 AF.