Looking through the frosty glass of the diner’s window

She sees the soft fire-lit candles all aglow

Blowing snow lands atop her tiny uncovered head

The cold wraps around her caring not if she is fed

She cannot go in for shelter, or so she would think

Maybe someone will offer her a warm cinnamon drink

Ignored by most though some take a peak

Wondering who is this frail little child so weak

Life’s roads have been hard, like frozen ruts in the snow

Yet on she has walked alone with nowhere to go

“May I come in?” Her heart does hopefully have her ask

“Yes” they say, “But first you must do this task!”

“Make ready the tables for the honored guests.”

“Put out the dishes, the bread, and the rest.”

“You now must prepare the special meal.”

“It does not matter how hungry you feel!”

The food is now on the table and ready to eat

It is only then she asks if she can take her seat

“No, not yet, you must get us all of our needs!”

When she makes a mistake for forgiveness she pleads

Now the meal has ended and all the people are gone

No one has offered help to get the work done

She has to pay for the privilege, dish by dish

It is the only way she could possibly get her wish

To maybe be wanted and loved, or just to belong

And sometimes to feel as if she is part of life’s song

This frail little child just wants someone to care

But not one person did a little bit share

They did not give her love, nor compassion did they show

Their hearts were so hard, like frozen ruts in the snow.