Circumstances
Circumstances
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Circumstances leaves you few A chances
No nick, no pick, no give me more
Just a little sauce, no custard tart
It's rough-and-tough in the orphan jungle
You in a shoestring circumstance.
My blanket given was a hankerchief of tear and warmth.
All I can stitch together in memory is my big toe sticking out from my small blanket.
Kismet! for that umbrella blanket I did not even own every night.
And yet civil I slept every night on a bed happy with the circumstance ..
My head had cover.
On that pillow I toss my lot on better day's of Mom's return, the night candle burns and those dreams fade.
For hour's I watched on the wall my all I got skew silhouette portrait of Stonehege.
My contentment in the circumstance.
My Ebenezer .. my stone of help.
Thankful I was for a bed I could stretch out on which creaked the whole night on three legs.
And as I exodus up in the morning I was somewhat creased, twisted and curved.
The day which followed the previous night was a pillow and blanket granted to the next orphan.
The next night I was on the floor.
We were always down to one, one dab of mouthwash.
I hoped to sleep longer one big toe out ..
Not enough blanket.
Why nothing was ever made to fit I'll never know.
But I ease, repose and accept the best of my circumstance.
Now at my 88 outlast I still reminisce and loved that grey orphanage Santa Maria called where pea soup with sour bread sustained, gladdened and fattened us.
A place for the orphan conceived with no options ..
there be no family photo's.
Nice food we never had so we orphan friend's tagged each other with food nick tags
We were ...
Pecan Nut, Bully Beef, King Cabbage, Long Egg and Hot Dog.
And every night Mother Abbess nourished us in prayer thankful to our Father who art in heaven.
And never were we disparaged unhappy by circumstance.
Hate never had a home.
Our heart's were sport and We did not sob.
Mother's never came to fetch us and Father's went straight to hell we guessed and that is where tether ended.
And in our struggle gamble
Sister Amber, the vein of our hearts
Would sing her waif song for
We the have-not's
Orphan's are thugs
Our lambent hearts will glow in the dark..
Our backbones stand bold
We fundamental grow
We be mindful and respectful
These circumstances we bare
They thought we were slob and rubbish.
Here at Santa Maria they abandoned us
Leaving us lone and vanished unknown
Gone they ran away.
Ballyhoo they never knew..
The diamonds they threw away
We prayed Our Father
Who art in heaven ..
And our circumstances hallowed.
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