I sits on the street corner.
Hundreds of people pass by me without a
They don't stop to raise a helping hand,
Not even to give their directions.
My long hair blows on my face,
My clothes are soaked from the rain, and
face is covered in dirt.
I have no place to call home.
I am just alone.
Would you help me? Or walk by like the
Thursday, November 2, 2006