A street hawker
A young boy
He’s sitting under the shade
Of a mango tree
His feet, white with dust
From wandering in the scotchy sun
His throat, parched
He looks like he’s on the brink
Of giving up
Perhaps one of those boys
From the north
In the south, in search
Of a better life
Better living
Whatever might have pushed him here
Is causing him to now reconsider
How different the mirage is
From reality
I sense his loss of hope
I feel my pockets
They’re empty
I wish
I had something to give him
Mowabites Worldwide 