Cries ring out, a lonely night,
A wish on a star, in distant and height,
And silently teardrops glisten and fall,
A plea for help, a desperate call.
The anguish of hunger, and illness and grief,
Of life without comfort, or friendship, or peace.
The weeping of mothers, whose babies are born,
To lives filled with agony, worry, and scorn.
The whimpers of children who never have known,
Families, or playmates, or homes of their own.

And she lies awake in a soft, sheltered bed,
With thoughts swirling vacantly 'round in her head.
The schoolwork that's difficult, or sometimes quite dull,
The things that are missed with a schedule so full.
A frivolous wish is easily waived,
A meaningless fray that somehow seemed grave.
These are the worries that plague and distress her,
And tarnish a life which is nearly carefree.
Yet a faraway echo comes faint to her mind,
The ringing of sobs fall of pain undefined.
That silently scold her, to hear with her heart,
And fathom how lucky they truthfully are.