The Beggar

I saw this lady once or twice she came knocking at my door

She asked for just a piece of bread, she asked for nothing more

It surprised from the others, who would almost demand for me to give

And I wondered if just a piece of bread would be enough for her to live

She was skinny and old, yet so independent

I thought of leftover crusts I threw in a bin, I wanted to repent

She had on a blue dress, clean and neat

But brown, broken and too small sandals were on her feet

Her teeth were almost rotten, her hands were dry and old

She had no jersey or jacket to protect her from the cold

Her eyes were warm and honest, I felt that in my gut

I wondered how she ended up as a beggar, what an unfortunate rut

I told her to wait a few moments then closed the door in her face

And kept on wondering what she had at her home, did she have her own little place?

I collected some leftovers and microved it warm

I packed a bag of fruit, apples and a pear

But when I opened the door but she was not there

I realised then she was seated on the floor

With her naked legs and battered feet, she could have asked for more

She could have asked for a home like mine

With food on a table at night

She didn’t deserve the abusive man, oh God that isn’t right

I looked at the floor and looked at my feet, new Boots I bought in June

And in my cupboards filled to the brim, new, clothes? Oh no there is no room

I thought of a fight I had with my mum, about something that I wanted

I think of the fight, the ugly words and the unnecessary way I ranted

I think of my dad who has always been there, to protect me from the bad

And for all that I had, I realised, I ought to be really glad

Cause sometimes my friends you think you have nothing and life always is a bore

But then I remember that women and recalled that she asked for a piece of bread