Sidney Beck Poet Free verse

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 .

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Debbie Guzzi September 21, 2010 at 5:47 AM oh yes. a writer! loved the phrase "clung to the skirts of my conscience" I think the hardest thing is to understand one needs to give with NO expectation of return. Seeking any sort of reciprocity is a fools forage. Light & Love and thanks so much for your kind words I will try to read a few more of yours since this one is so tantalizing!