The Orphan
In somber twilight's quiet embrace,
An orphaned child with tear-streaked face,
Gazed upon a golden fruit,
A symbol of solace, grief to mute.
The fruit hung high, a treasure divine,
A mother's love, that once did shine,
A beacon bright of memories dear,
Its glow bespoke of love sincere.
Alas, no arms to hold, to guide,
A void where once a heart resided,
In wistful dreams, the child would roam,
To find the warmth of love and home.
The golden fruit, a spectral sigh,
An echo of the lullabies,
A fleeting glimpse of what had been,
A mother's love, a bittersweet hymn.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
