Children Of Angels Poem by Ruta Mohapatra

The flames of hope burned inside her
Brighter than any sun,
As she held the little child to her,
Keeping it safe and warm.

God did not give her a roof above
In that sprawling city of homes,
But the footpath where she spent the night
Was clean and wide and strong.

In the morning she went from car to car
That stopped near the traffic light,
Extending a slim and dusty palm
With a slow and hesitant smile.

God knows I am working hard,
She would tell herself each day;
He would sure provide a better life
To my little bundle of joy.