What Would it Cost?

BY CAROLE NICHOLS

The street corner is so busy,
People hurrying as they pass by;
They close their eyes, pretend to not hear,
The ragged child's hungry cries.

She stand there, arms reaching,
All alone, dirty and care worn;
Tears of misery track her face,
Too young to look so forlorn.

What would it cost, what price,
For just one soul to show they care?
How much to hold out their hand,
To touch that dirty, tangled hair?

What would it cost to take her,
To a place that's warm and safe?
Or feed and clothe and wash her,
This poor motherless waif?

What would it cost just to give her,
A small portion of your time?
To offer for a moment, a caring hug,
To give her a hope for which she could climb?

You say it's not your problem?
You barely have time of your own?
What if it were someday your child,
Standing there, lost and alone?

Wouldn't you want someone to help?
Wouldn't you hope someone would care?
So they wouldn't have to merely exist,
Surviving on the wings of a prayer?

It wouldn't cost more than a little time,
Afterall, love and caring are free.
Look with you heart and see her eyes,
She could belong to you or to me.