When you look at the little child
So weak, without smile
Do you notice his clothes?
And the bone that shows?

Do you assume his mother doesn’t care?
That his father left him all alone, there?

Looking at this young boy
Tell me
Do you wish there was something more that you could do?
Maybe send his poor soul to school?

It’s a good thing you didn’t pull out your wallet
Because, as you look up, you never would have called it

His mother comes around
And picks up her son
She lifts him off the ground
Stealing him from a day of fun

You walk the other way
In quite a rush
It’s a cool day in May
But you feel your cheeks flush

On your way home
You feel a little guilty
As you thoughts start to roam

Next time you won’t be so quick to judge
You try to convince yourself
The memory in your head
You try to smudge

So this lesson you learned
You learned it from me
Try not to judge me
Until you see what I see