The Little Prince

With piercing eyes, so deep, so blue,
Gazing at a rainbow, set against the golden hue.
At that moment, the child turned towards me,
His face was clear, his smile spoke of neither sadness nor glee.
Yet his eyes had magic of their own,
Warm enough to melt a heart of stone.
The innocent look contrasted with his poor attire,
Such was the irony of fate, it's most splendid satire.
For, at that moment, I could see in his glance,
An abundant wealth of innocence.
Such wealth it was, I knew, that I could never possess,
For innocence is neither a desire nor a feeling that one could harness.
I felt, at that moment, a beggar at loss,
For he was a prince, for whom happiness could pause.
But all this little prince desired from me...
Was, as he said,"Perhaps Sir could spare some food or maybe a rupee!"