Nine

Shuffling alone in an alley off some dark city street
With clothes that are dirty and no shoes for his feet
He digs in a dumpster hoping for something to eat
Shooing away rats hiding from the sweltering heat
A small grateful smile crosses his dirt-covered face
(How unbearably pathetic in this dark dreary place!)
He grabs moldy bread and sinks down in his space
Between rank wet boxes and a trash-covered embrace
After only one bite he tiredly drifts off to sleep
And even in soft slumber he does quietly weep
In this place where life is nothing but cheap
And any comfort comes at a cost way too steep
Small hands tremble weakly with his body’s decline
This boy who should be playing in the sweet sunshine
But life is not fair devouring without reason or rhyme
Even for a boy who has only just now turned nine