POSTCARD FROM SINGAPORE

BEGGAR CHILD

I saw him crouched upon the busy roadside,

In dreams his palm was still outstretched in hope.

This child whose dusky face was so angelic

Was fettered to his mother by a rope.

...

Then as I watched, he stirred, and eyelids opened,

Revealing eyes that spoke of many things,

Of lovelessness and unrelenting hunger,

Framed by an aura which to the valiant clings.

...

Compassion stirred from deep within my being,

My heart was pounding loud within my breast.

What could I do? How help relieve his suffering?

But toss a coin –and pass by like the rest?

N.B This is the first poem I ever wrote. C 1957