The Poor Child

I went to buy a chocolate

I met my friend while grabbing one

She said she saw a small child 3 years old, hungry and free

She took me to that poor child who was looking at me

The child had torn clothes and a rotten apple in her hand.

We quickly took out our chocolate and gave it in her small hand

We wonder why children are left to die and mourn.

I took her home gave her a nice bath 

Her laugh lighted the room and as a wore her clothes, she said the word 'cuckoo'

I went with my father to an orphanage by the street and told them to take good care of her

And I happily went home, thinking I did a good deed.