Where do they go in the daytime?
Seems I never see them around.
Maybe they’re not that obvious,
Or they don’t want to be found.
If they were standing right next to me,
Wouldn’t I know somehow?
Don’t they look different from you and me?
I was sure they did, until now.
They are the poor and homeless,
With no place to call their own,
I’ve seen them sleeping in the streets,
A cardboard box their home.
Some of them have jobs you know,
And they work hard all day long.
But they must choose between food and a home,
And that is morally wrong.
There’s a serious lack of humanity,
In the world as we know it today.
So if a poor soul reaches out to me,
I will never turn them away.