Child

Unkempt was the child.
Face was dirty. Come, the child was dirty.
Scratches on his arms and legs,
with blotches on his face.

Walked with a slow gait,
almost lazy one would say.
Hands moved as through water
and the head was bowed.

The plumpy cop on the beat
waved at the child.
"You! Make a hasty retreat!!"

And the look of the child was anger
Red as fire and hot as blood.
"No mercy!" screamed the look,
A smile his mouth took.

You could say that it was a child no more,
one who could smile at sorrow so bold.

Then, the child,
Walked with a slow gait,
almost lazy one would say.
Hands moved as through water,
But, the head was up.