A Letter to the Boy On the StreetA Poem by FrancescaYour shorts are too big for you, You have scabs on your knees. I can count the ribs under your bare, brown chest. Dirty black hair and dark, hopeless eyes. There are glue stains on your mouth, The ground you rest on is crumbled stone. Under a crumbling building, those are common here.
I hear a whimper, needy and sad. A small, white dog, huddles next to you. Cowering from the November cold, He is fatter than you. You hold him close, protecting him from my glance.
Cracked gray buildings, under a cracked, gray sky, Streaked with warfare. The gray is the color of bars in a jail cell But the hills are luscious and green, Surrounding the city in a tight embrace. The mountains are covered in soft, white snow. And the oceans stretch an endless blue. The countryside is quiet and simple, Everyone greets everyone, with a kiss on the cheek.
But there's a boy in this city, no older than 12. 40 pesos I give you and patacones I buy for you, Wrapped in a paper towel. Your grubby hands are quick and covetous, In your eyes I see your "thank you" I know it will be more for your dog than for you, His wet black eyes sparkle up at me. I see a smile growing on your face. Your teeth look brittle, but your eyes are bright, As you nod a happy thanks in my direction.
They won't change the world, my 40 pesos and patacones, But they make a difference to you. © 2010 FrancescaReviews
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Added on April 15, 2010Last Updated on April 22, 2010 AuthorFrancescaSan Francisco, CAAboutI'm Francesca, 19, and I go to school in San Francisco. I'm originally from Pittsburgh, PA, but moved out here about a year ago. I'm a really ambitious person and I work harder/am busier than 95% of.. more..Writing
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