The Poor Girl

A little girl dressed all in rags,
Came and stood by my bags.
When I raised an enquiring glance,
Asking for money was her only stance. 
She stood there, the poor girl,
I couldn't imagine why in the world.
Waiting with an extended hand,
and looking at me with a beseeching glance.
Was she destined to be a beggar ever since she was born?
What was it that made her so forlorn?
She looked fine by all means,
Only poverty was what brought her to ruins.
I contemplated giving her money once,
But wouldn't it spoil the little one?
At an age when she should play and learn rhymes, 
Here was this girl, striving to survive at all times.
But I couldn't imagine how to help her,
Her beseeching eyes asking for anything i could lend her.
But my selfish attitude held me back,
until it was too late to call her back.