I saw a boywalking down the street
his feet torn and bloody
his face a mere memory
on the breeze
the mayhem caused by
his appearance
was minimal – hardly there
so I went to help him out
I held him up as he
stumbled with pride
I cleaned his wounds
while he lay down to die
he never did say "thank you"
didn't give a smile or a frown
merely clutched my hand
to say "i'm here"
and to let me know
that
someone else cared.