The boys soft steps clamor upon the ground,
his smile is grave and his face is undefined.
With each passing person he waves his hand,
but receives no response; besides the one within.
His hat is stowed up on a porch, he begs for money with little pride.
Not one person throws in a nickel, or dime.
Some sprinkle ashes and others just continue to walk by.
Without any thought the little boy resides, to the far end of his alley
in the back of the shadows where nobody can see, and he is alone to hide.
His parents there beside his side, and together they live in the hands of poverty.
With their cloths as no more than rags, and the dirt on their hands from rummaging through the dumpster. Their stomachs empty, and eyes weary they curl up for the night and sleep in fright, that they will not escape this desolate world.