Nobody Catches Their Teardrops

For some money the little child has stretched a hand,

Against mine I can suddenly sense,

He looks so hungry and tired,

The teardrops of his sister are about to collapse.

 

Some have the luxury of catching raindrops,

Those flood-stricken grab relief,

An infant is happy seizing its mother’s fingers,

A special phenomenon that does lessen her grief.

 

But do we amplify our hearts honestly,

For those whose teardrops perish hopelessly?