Alone On The Streets
She carried the whole world slung on her back
Some threadbare clothes in a rotten old sack.
Heavy lines etched on her weary face,
For her lot in life she had lost the race.
She once had a home with a respectable mother,
Now hard life on the street, she knows of no other.
Her misfortune now plain for all people to see,
A good outcome all lost and never to be.
She spends all her days alone on the streets,
Not a friend in the world only beggars she meets.
How will it all end, does anyone care?
Will anyone help, will someone be there?
If it was your daughter what would you do?
For solutions to her life are all but too few.
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Comments about this poem (Alone On The Streets by David Wood )
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
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