The Past - Poem by Winifred Booth
The shadows and cobwebs, of bygone days,
Little urchins, living their ways.
Their faces all grubby, and eyes full of tears,
They looked much older, than their years.
Living in the dirt and dark,
Nowhere to play, not even a park.
No green fields, or buttercups too,
We were more fortunate, me and you.
Scuffy clothes, and a dirty scarf,
Hands outstretched, and with a sad laugh,
They would plead, for just a crumb,
Walk the streets, until they were numb.
Nobody cared about their plight,
As they wandered through the endless night.
Hapless and a homeless, burdened by sorrow,
Praying there would be a new tomorrow.
So my poem came form the past,
I hope they are happy, now at last,
Those poor souls, from the dark of night,
Into the arms of Eternal Light.
Comments about The Past by Winifred Booth
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Winifred Booth's Other Poems
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye