Be My Valentine

“Be my valentine,” she said. Her eyes looked so forlorn.
She stood there in her tattered clothes with a card all bent and torn.
She was homeless and so tiny with saucer-sized brown eyes.
She wore an old red velvet dress that wasn’t quite her size.

Her name was Esmerelda, and she was five years old.
She lived here in this shelter when the streets became too cold.
Her mother said "I'm sorry. Dear, don't bother this nice man."
I said, "It's no bother." The child reached for my hand.

I felt the tugging of my heartstrings, as I saw this little girl.
She was so innocent and lost in this big old cruel world.
I smiled at her and told her that honored I would be
to accept this special gift she now offered me.

I was working in a shelter, because I had lost a bet.
A friend of mine had dragged me here, and I had to pay my debt.
I’d felt it was a nuisance to spend my time this way
when I had so much more to do on this cold and wintery day.

What I saw there changed my feelings of the homeless and the poor.
I really had no consciousness of what they must endure.
I thought that I would ask what brought them to this place
when surely there were other ways of life they could embrace.

I found that there were people from many walks of life.
Some chose to live out on the streets, yet for others it caused strife.
There were some who were abusers and some who were abused.
There were users and some con-men and others who were confused.

And, then there were the children. They didn’t have a voice;
no say in how their lives were lived; not allowed to make a choice.
I wanted just to help them in oh so many ways!
I made a vow to myself and God to volunteer some days.

I have a new-found purpose—a new way to spend my time.
I feel that I am helping to make a difference so sublime.
There’s many Esmereldas, sure to steal your heart,
and many ways to help them. Won’t you do your part?


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