The Girl With The Hessian Sack

She is wearing grubby clothes,

Stitched at so many places and

You can still see a lot of tears in her dress.

But she is not wearing a somber look,

Her eyes showing no sign of stress.

I can't discern if she is happy.

She looks poor and dirty,

And nobody seems to go near her.

Surely she doesn't own a treasury,

But she is not bemoaning her state of penury.

Nonetheless, I could see the pain in her eyes.

She is carrying on her shoulder a hessian sack,

Almost of the length as her height,

Brimful of scraps, rags, and other tatters.

She is staring at garbage as nothing else matters.

She innocently watches other children,

Wearing the sumptuous dress and playing games,

Their parents purchasing them sweets and toys.

She envies the smile on their faces,

She recognizes she has nothing to enjoy.

Life couldn't be more unjust.

It bequeaths one with richness and power,

While others are buffeted by destitution.

Some can purchase anything from land to sky,

And some have only lachrymose tale in their eyes.