A little girl shimmers into sight,
Where am I? Am I alright?
I study her in detail and analyze her face,
She's filthy all over but so full of grace.
With no shoes on her feet or sweater on her back,
She's chilled to the bone and lost in her tracks.
Why is this child so dirty and cold?
She doesn’t even look very old.
I offer the young girl my cloak,
But she shakes her head and says no.
She urges me to follow and we wander,
Every step just makes me ponder.
The little girl reaches out to grab me,
As I run towards a shadowed figure in the trees.
I keep hoping it’s my hooded mister,
But as I draw closer I feel sicker and sicker.