The orphan with the torn stockings
sits on the steps of a bombed out house
the war and its pain is no more
her parents no longer around to feed her
no excuse in complaining
the daily chores need to be done
she sits there on the steps darning her stockings
there is no time or need for fun
a passer by stops and donates bread
a gift accepted but never asked for
a thank you and a smile from truthful eyes
not her style to ask for more

Time passes by and here we are today
another child on graffiti strewn steps
playing on her freshly bought smart phone
maybe a game or maybe in chat
she looks no one ever in the eyes
when she talks she mutters some lies
detached from all those around her
no “thank you” only me and me
the important things are too much fuss
sitting before us in this modern age
a spoilt, undeserving little brat

back now to the poor and pleasant
the orphaned girl with the stale bread
she is happy with this small token
grateful that she has been fed
meanwhile the modern girl
only wishes for some fast food
then she will only eat half of it
with no thanks at all how rude
they say we are evolving
We are technologically ahead
but I pine for the old and poor days
instead of being empty and brain dead
┬ęD.Hobson September 2013