They beg,

They cry,

They need your money,

To survive.

You see them when you walk down the street,

You pity them,

But little do you know,

You also pity me.

That’s right,

That’s it,

I’m one of them.

Is that not something you expect?

Well, truth be told,

Every penny I see,

To me is gold.

I sleep under a bridge,

I have nowhere to go.

I have no food,

Ask my companions,

They too have nothing to own.

I’m writing this,

So it becomes known,

About others who are like me.

So please, donate to the pantry,

To us: the people you pity.

Just a few cents,

That’s all we ask,

And it’s okay,

If that’s too big a task.

But if you have a penny, a dime,

A nickel or two,

Trust me;

A lot of good it will do.

So, long story short,

When you walk down the road,

And stop in front of us,

A few cents, if you can, please bestow,

Put the coins in our hands,

And we’ll slur, “Thank you, kind man.”

And you’ll smile and continue on your way,

Thinking about how lucky you are,

While we look up at the sky,
And wish upon a star.