Cold Streets

JOANNE PROKOP

Sometimes I see myself
Through the eyes of an orphan boy
Wandering lonely and helpless
Through cobblestone streets

He wonders who I am
In a world of self indulgence
And what I've done to become
So different from him

He fights for his life
While I fight for my freedoms
Writing it all down to preserve
The simple memory of existence

It doesn't make a meal or money
It doesn't keep us warm at night
It is a reflex, a reaction
The will to survive

When I see the orphan boy
Walking through cold and empty streets
I lift my cap, and scrawl with my pen
Knowing this way, we can both survive.