When I Walk The Streets Poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot

Thoughts of you
Are always with me
Like the oxygen I breathe
Even when I do not notice it
Filling my lungs, giving me life
To face the next day
Crammed with desperation
As yesterday.

I walk the street
I notice
A child holding out a begging bowl
A morsel from the last meal
Long ago forgotten
Has dried and sticks to the bowl surface
Like parched dirt on a white shirt
Good Samaritans drop
Their insignificant coins
Onto palms outstretched
Pleading for warmth and care
Women in skimpy skirts
Lean on doors to houses of vice
Inviting them whose full pockets
Will be emptied after a few hours
Of ephemeral happiness.

Sometimes I want to withdraw
From this hopelessness
But I think of you
And remember laughter
The plans for the future
The house with white ceilings
Two children and one dog
This life is not as desolate
As it seems
When I walk the streets.

(For V.A.)