Street Rat Magic – A Poem

She is sittingGirl-with-Hands-out2

on the street

corner. I’m a

little surprised to

see her back.


I say softly.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d left the streets.”

She looks up

at me, her eyes

wide and her

face tired and

pale. She gives

me a half

smile and shrugs.

“Times are tough, you know? Times are tough.”

I want to

bend down and

give her a

hug, some sort

of comfort that

would make the

pain she carries

on her face,

in her soul,

slip away, but

I can’t. Instead

I can only

give her some

form of kindness.

I take a

dollar out of

my pocket and

drop it in

her hat. She

smiles at me.

“Thanks. You were always good to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

I tell her.

“No, when you were a street rat, you always looked out for me. Always took care of others. I could never do that.”

I smile, warmed

by her words.

As I walk

away, I reflect

at how fortunate

I am. I was

able to get

off the streets,

out of the

shelters, away from

the food banks.

Through the kindness

of others, I

found my way

back home. I

was lucky. However,

I know that

others aren’t so

lucky, even ones

I used to

know like family.

She may not

have been family

of the blood,

but was instead

family of the

heart. She’s a

street rat to

some but to

me, she will

always be a

sister. I didn’t

look at what

I gave her

as just money.

In some way,

I hoped what

I was giving

her was a

bit of magic

so that she

could find her

own happily ever


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