The Orphanage

A dark Seussian poem

I see the orphans and feel sad

They do not have a mom or dad

Their days are cold and filled with sorrow

They have no hopes for the morrow

To free them from their lives so bleak

And give them the peace they sorely seek

I craft a cure from fire and glass

So that they may be warm at last

A morning of gentle snow is shaken

As the toll of thunder and flame is taken

Their prison of iron and brick now gone

Their souls may rise to greet the dawn