The Waif

                                      The Waif

  She was barely nineteen going on fourty, a child of the city, rambling through

its corridors searching for sustenance.

  Tall cold pillars of concrete and steel surround her.  She sheathed only in

garments  that others had long ago discarded.  "Shoes"  a combination of torn

up cardboard boxes and newspapers bound together with found duct tape.

 

  Ages have passed since she felt the bitter cold that gnawed at her,  hiding the

ache that is ever present in her stomach. Her face  streaked with dirt she

didn't see, but knew was there.  A fleeting glimpse in a store window told her it

was true.

  She didn't cry anymore; there was no use, it didn't do any good.  Forgetting her

 hunger, what she wants most is a hug, love and most of all, someone who cares.

Reviews

[GlendaK]

I love this! You've captured the essence of poverty and the nightmare often associated with a life that can not be escaped.
Only by the grace of God do the lives change. God is so merciful and long-suffering and has our good in store if only we believe and don't screw up.
I know I've screwed up many times, yet, God has continued to place me on higher ground! Why? He must love this ignorant human for some reason.
Your writing sure inspires a lot of visions. Thanks, love.

[Dave]

GleendaK - I wish that God keeps you in the palm of his hand and brings you nothing but goodness from now on. I'm sure that He knows that you deserve it.
Take care - Dave