Chance

Living on the street was his fate
Food twice a day was was never on his plate

There were endless lists, lists of wishes always to pray
But the reality of life, witched them in gray

Then when he found the money, lying on the floor
How could he return, when he always wished for more

Ice cream and chocolates, he had seen people licking
Now wasn't it his time, to do some relishing?

Written for Sunday Scribblings: Prompt - Indulgence