It is a sad thought, indeed

To see the rain fall upon a mother's

Glistening cheek like the tears she holds back

As her baby is starving in her arms

And all the others do are look on upon her

With judgement and disdain

For the cards she was dealt by 

Miss Fortune's cruel hand

"'Tis sad", I think as I walk passed

But who shall stop and give their own

For one as poor as she?

"We all must look out for ourselves," most shall say

Not I, however

"For who shall give their own?" I think

As I walk through the rain back toward the woman

A battered soul with nobody there to shed

Money or comfort or food or love

It is sad to see one so helpless, 

But sadder still to not be able to help

'Tis sad, indeed, to see all those

Too caught up in their own worlds

To realize that if they had fallen

They would want someone to help them

So I extend my hand with a smile gracing my lips

She looks into my eyes, clutching her child

"'Tis a sad thought, indeed," she moans,

"That no one shall help me while I am like this."

"Not I," I say