The Cry of an Orphan

In the dim light of the moon's glow, An orphan dreams where the cold wind blow, Hot silent tears trace paths on a dirtied weary face, In a world too vast, an empty space. The cradle that once rocked, now stood silent and still, No more lullabies, no more warmth to fill, Tiny hands reach for shadows of love and care, But find only echoes in the midnight air. Once a child of grace, now lost in the night, Seeking solace in stars that are out of sight, Once shielded from the cruel world's sting, But now left in the sorrow's cold endless spring. A heart once full of laughter and cheer, Now haunted by memories, distant and near, With every stride once taken side by side, Slowly fading where echoes hide. In the shadows of deep dreams, where no one can find, Ghostly hands of love lingers, undefined, An orphan's soul tender and bruised, Cry hard where affection is seldom abused. Among the crowd, a figure alone, Wandering paths where no seed is sown, Yearning for arms that will never embrace, Seeking a home, a familiar warm place. Yet in sorrow, rose a quiet plea, For kindness to flourish, for heart to see, Though dirty and alone, they are still whole, A beacon of love and kindness could heal a wounded soul.