poems

The Orphanage

The Orphanage

21/06/2017

The orphanage was set back in the trees like they always are.

Idealic scenary with an image of perfection.

A place for children to play although weren’t allowed out in.

I saw your face earlier when you asked about my history.

It changed to pain saved like a snapshot you paraphrased.

As though my memories were briefly yours.

They hit like an old magical sword, to the hilt.

Yet they were born only from fact and word.

The orphanage was set back in the trees like they always are.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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