Song Of The Orphan

I am no one and never will be anyone,
For I am far too small to claim to be;
Not even later.

Mothers and Fathers,
Take pity on me.

I fear it will not pay to raise me:
I shall fall victim to the mower’s scythe.
No one can find me useful now: I am too young,
And tomorrow will be too late.

I only have one dress,
Worn thin and faded,
But it will last an eternity
Even before God, perhaps.

I only have this whispy hair
(that always remained the same)
Yet once was someone’s dearest love.

Now he has nothing that he loves.

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)

Song Of The Orphan