The Orphan

The Orphan

I saw her near a ware-house
On a cold, stormy night;
Where she sat huddled, shivering
I felt pity at her plight.

As I came closer, she looked up
From amidst her dowdy finery,
And I beheld the face of a mere child
Scarred by abject misery.

Bony her limbs and bony her face
Disheveled hair crowned her head
Her eyes were limpid pools of pain
Disillusionment, fear and neglect.

I hastened to help this poor child
But she cowered as if in fear
And with silent steps she scurried away
As if she wanted no one near.

And to this day, whenever I hear
Tiny feet pattering and voices shrill,
The little orphan haunts my dreams...
Crouching in the cold and shivering still.

~ Anwaar N Hassan ~

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