Her name is Ingrid and she loves to twirl.
She wears a smudged lime green shirt three days in a row
And her giggle is infectious.
They call her a "street kid."
She fights for juice, for toys, for the first balloon
And eats every bite of her rice and beans.
She runs into my arms and we are inseparable.
She wants to ride piggy-back
And be partners in the three-legged race.
Swaying back and forth in the blinding sun,
I hold her tight
And wonder what she dreams.