begging in snow 

Uoooof, snow is coming.
Where will it alight?                              On the roof, at the doorstep.
How much will fall?                              Snow in front of my feet.
What I am wearing?                             There is no jacket on me.
Why am I not cloaked?                        There is no father to buy for me.
Where is my mam going?                   To the street for begging.
I skip. I jump in the lightness.            I love snow.
But where will we land?                      To my room, to my room.

By Massoma

Photo: RAWA.org