Spare change? She asked, and I sighed,
but there was something about her face
that meant I just couldn't lie. As I fumbled
in my pockets she fumbled in hers, and
with barely a slur she said excuse me,
one moment, got to sort out my rat. Frankly,
I was somewhat shocked at that, but
I've got one myself and they're not as bad
as everyone says. With care, she lifted him
and cradled him in her skinny arms, mothering
her rat from all the world, protected from harm,
the rat squeaked back a child full of rodenty charm,
while I tried to keep my mind firmly on money,
in case she thought I thought she was funny,
and I pulled out a two-pound coin and handed it over.

For a moment or so, she didn't notice,
but soon she thanked me and went
on her way to wherever homeless people go
when they walk away. Then, later that day,
I got to the station for the train home, and
noticed I was missing my pass. I sighed,
bought another and felt a bit of a ass,
but then I thought perhaps she'd picked it up,
that I threw her a bone when she was down,
out of luck, walking the streets one rat away
from alone, and I couldn't help but smile
until I got home.