I am flesh and bone,
I long for a place to call home.
It's not my fault I'm here
I've always lived in fear.
There's nothing to eat,
I do believe I've met my defeat
But there's hope.
The littered scraps of a crowd,
like the silver lining of a storm cloud.
Shelter under an old piece of tin,
clothing found discarded in a bin.
I do believe I shall not live to see the day
when people like us are treated in a way
That gives us real hope.
A home, food to eat, clothes to wear.
If only you who take these things regarded,
gave us these things, if only you would care.

© Danni Goldring, 2006