Beggar child: A poem 

Posted bymontecyrilPosted inUncategorized

O the smile, the smile! 

It runs a mile 

It steals a march 

Their blood is starch 

You are wealth’s doll 

They have the gall 

to fling you a penny 

You are much too many 

The streets are wild 

But you make your hunger mild 

You are every moment’s child 

The wicked world hasn’t defiled 

And you have no age 

Your innocence is vintage 

And the smile, the smile 

how it runs a mile…! 

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

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