Barely clothed in a small dirty dress,
her long black hair in a tangled mess.
Her tiny bare feet covered with sores.
She stood silently by the open door.
Her big brown eyes, staring at my plate.
She was obviously in a hungered state.
She was tiny,
couldn’t have been more
than four or five.
I don’t know how she
managed to stay alive.
I motioned for here
to come to me.
She hesitated,
then slowly walked
up near my knee.
She began to pitifully beg,
in a languge that
I didn't understand.
I held out a chicken leg.
She cautiously took it from my hand.
In a flash, out the door and
down the street she ran.
A few minutes later,
as I moved down the
walk-way in the jungle heat.
I saw the little brown eyed girl,
sharing the chicken with two
other little beggars,
of the street.
That was years ago,
in a far off,
war torn place.
Yet to day,
I still recall her haunting eyes,
and pitiful hunger face.
I hope she was saved by God’s
love and tender grace.