I held my mother’s hand so tight,
And walked into the city light.
But then I stopped and had to stare,
At someone sitting lonely there.

She looked like me, with eyes so wide,
But had no door to go inside.
No shoes to wear, no toys to play,
Just watching people walk away.

I asked my mom, “Why is she cold?
Where is the home that she should hold?”
It felt so strange, it felt so wrong,
That some kids do not have a home.

I pulled a mitten from my hand,
The only thing that I had planned.
I gave it with a little smile,
And watched her happy for awhile.