A ticket and a dream was all that she could see,
An orphan, and hope for all that could be.
Not even a hop, skip, and a jump away.
To arrive on a plan was more than they could ask for,
Instead they drove the border with nothing but their passports.
To say that what they saw there was exquisite,
Was the opposite of what was there, and completely unrealistic.
There were houses, if you could call them that,
Nothing but a single cardboard roof atop a dirt floor flat.
One said these people must live in poverty,
But the heart felt unsure; it felt, royalty.
These people, although they were bare,
They take pride in ownership, and all that they wear.
From the garbage, and filth that cover the town,
You can't help but see the not a single frown.
How, you may ask, and one cannot help but sing,
They find hope in not living, but in Him, The King.
Smoldering days are spent working, and nights spent asleep,
These natives spend many nights in chapel a week.
Why is such hope found in such a simple place?
He who is great designed earth, wind, and space.
And no matter what, loves night and day.