The
Tramp
I was walking on my usual way
I saw this tramp of a kid where he was laid
I took no notice of him, just on a whim
He coughed and I jumped, I looked at him
He had two sad little eyes
A very sad little face
He looked very tired and hungry
His chest looked like it felt heavy
He sucked in freshly polluted air
And he coughed even more
His shorts were smudged
He smelt of fresh urine
Normally, after a moment of pity
I’d shrug and walk my way
But today, I felt different
I chose to stay
I squatted on the pavement next to him
Threw at his side, a half-eaten éclair
He did not make a move, like he didn’t understand
‘Eat’, I said, ‘You can call it food’
He proceeded cautiously
Pulled the wrapper whole
Put it in his mouth and swallowed it whole
I chuckled at the kid, he steered
I thought of what else I could do
The gypsy kid looked meekly at me
I could look into his innocent eyes
All I would find would be guilt
His lips moved ever so slowly
His face turned very soft
He clutched onto the wrapper
And said thank you at last
I half-nodded and rose
I asked him where his house was
He pointed towards a shack
A tramp’s house, it looked lank
I felt tired all of a sudden
This house was no place to stay
I looked at the weak little thing
I felt like taking him
I squatted silently for a while
The kid labored real hard
I reached into my pocket
Put a note in his hand and said keep it
He showed no emotion again
I did not stay to look for none
I walked away in haste
Ashamed of what I’d done
