The Orphanage

A little insight into my father's earliest days.

The Orphanage

 

They did not hold my father,

Sleeping in his crib.

They did not rock and cuddle him,

Like loving mothers did.

 

Instead they let him lay there,

Already so alone,

A thing so small and fragile,

In a harsh world yet unknown.

 

                 ~*~

 

They did not hold my father

Within the nursery,

And now sometimes I wonder

If that’s why he won’t hold me.

 

He never learned the power

Of a parent’s soothing touch.

Who ever thought something so small

Could ever mean so much?

 

                 ~*~

 

They did not hold my father,

Who soon learned not to cry.

He now embraces no one,

And I’m sure that this is why:

 

He was not rocked and cuddled

In the cold, dark nursery.

He was never treated in the way

That little ones should be.

 

                 ~*~

 

My father is a grown man now,

With children of his own.

I wonder how he might have changed,

If my father’d only known

 

That people need embracing,

All little babies do.

But it’s not only just for children;

Grown-ups need it too.

 

                 ~*~

Reviews

[J.Black]

Wow!! I'm sorry to hear about your father.... filled with emotion this poem is.

[Dalaina Renee]

All I can say is wow. What a great poem. That is so sad about your father being an orphan then he made you feel like one because of lack of emotion. My heart goes out to him and you.