The Teacher and the Foundling
THE TEACHER AND THE FOUNDLING
Dirty raw face
Lost in a vicious
Dog-eat-dog world ,
His tears washed rivulets
Into my chalky hand .
Dissolving into
My soft inner soul ,
He sensed mother
And clung to the skirts
Of my conscience.
My home’s warm respite ,
Another world of gentle feeling ;
Before the return to darkness
And bruised cold fingers
In beer bottle bedrooms .
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment