Disheveled Poem by Kim Schilling

Dirt beneath her fingernails,
disheveled and alone,
a young girl jumps from the swing,
falling to her scuffed knees.
No one comes for her,
for she’s a lost child.

Her parents buried long ago,
she’s forgotten comfort,
settling for darkened alleys,
avoiding glaring eye contact.
Her heart aches for a family,
as people joyfully pass her by.

Years slip by shivering and cold.
The old woman visits the rusted swing,
pondering the empty spaces in her life.
Returning to her gloomy makeshift tent,
she gives thanks to God for her life
before taking her final breath.