The Beggered Voice That Is Mine Poem by James McLain

It is different then from now a begger comes,
where I live now snow that never falls.
I seldom speak,
but word's that when they come, cause
they whom fill an empty hand a look that
few can meet.

Where I used to hide no other's dwell,
each city has pulled up and killed
the bushes and spaced the trees to wide
to keep the rain off of our heads.

A poet's lot in life in any life if poor
without their love of mind,
An early death the elements can find.

A beggered poet looks away in shame,
his daughter left behind
to young to know what he gave up,
for her to read and one day find.

A heart that's full of love cannot sustain
an empty mind,
or that beggered voice she one day hears
When that voice is mine.