Biscuits

Warm scents of biscuits in my room,

awoke me in the morning.

I showered, dressed and hugged my mom,

my safe haven, and my home

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On the street at the break of dawn,

cold awoke them in their car

A homeless mother and her son,

no food to eat, no one cared.

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My ride to school, a brand new van,

heat on high, my face flush red.

I played my phone to chat with friends,

“Scott, I Love you,” my mom said.

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Saltine crackers she passed around,

Changed her shirt and wiped Joe’s face.

They walked three miles to get to town,

the cold brisk winds, slowed their pace.

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The classroom warm, the late bell rang,

Joe entered in, and we stared.

Gross judgments passed, sick jokes we made,

in his defense, no one dared.

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His stomach growled and he felt faint,

classmates made him feel afraid.

At lunch, he’d hide, inside a drain,

the shame of peers to evade.

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Ev’ning came and my pizza party,

beef and cheese, to name a few.

Everyone ate, happy and hearty,

food thrown out into the chute.

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Out on the street, in the dark of night,

they searched the trash for their fare.

Unseen, forgotten, pitied, shied,

eating scraps that had been spared.

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I walked outside and what did I spy?

Joe ate garbage from trash sacks.

Confused, I asked my Mom, but why?

ashamed of school and our attacks

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Through the cold and scantily dressed,

they trudged to the car, their home.

Another day, survived at best,

the freezing night, soon would come.

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We passed them walking down the street,

mom stopped our car and they spoke.

Their tragic story was complete,

my Mom begged them, please come home.

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Warm scents of biscuits in our room,

awake us every morning

I shower, dress and share my clothes,

our safe haven, and our home.