via Daily Prompt: Trill
The trill of their voices still on my mind
Though I had left them a fortnight behind.
Neatly combed and properly tied-up laces,
Taught to be quiet, those dressed up faces.
But those eyes …
Those eyes I can’t forget.
Emptiness and longing in there
I think is beyond repair.
Today in the cold morning holding each other’s hands
Tied by many unseen strands.
Once Abandoned and deserted on garbage loads
Born behind closed doors then left to die on roads.
Curiosity flickered in their eyes for a while
Two or three in fact happened to smile
A few tried to break the monotony of standing in a line
When I extended the gifts in a pile.
They are the ones who know how to survive
Even in utter dejection and incessant strife
Some of them, I BELIEVE, will eventually shine,
Will rise above the stigma, their lives almost fine
This sums up my visit to an orphanage
What remains …
The echo of trilling and tweeting in the haze?