In search of cans and food
The eyes that never saw
The sight of playgrounds or school
The dry chapped hands that only felt
The touch of hammers and rags
The hands that only know
How to clean and scrub
And not to write and draw
The dusty feet that have never felt
The touch of a warm shoe
Or felt beneath them
A carpeted floor
The feet that only know
The prick of thorns and rocks
A child, child like us
Who should have gone to school
Who should have read the books we did
And eaten ice cream on a hot summer's day
Instead of picking through the trash
Or weaving carpets with fingers that
Were meant to hold pencils and pens
A child, with childhood stolen away
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