A poem about a little boy abandoned |
One Small Request (free verse - Dedicated to the Babe) It was a chilly November day, when they went away to stay, our father gone, our mother too, leaving me and a brother. He sat, the boy, ramrod straight on an old chair three times his size. His short legs did not reach the floor. He was short; he was only four. I lay in a pile of blankets wet on a ratty old sofa, tattered and worn, sucking on an empty coke bottle with nipple that once held Pet milk and syrup. People walked in and out, slowly, staring, whispering, "how sad, how awful, too bad it ended this way, especially on a cold November day." The boy tried to be brave, as he held up his fair head, stared straight ahead with stunned eyes. His legs barely trembled. Finally, a nice man stooped down and spoke. Then he frowned. "Hey boy, is there anything, anything at all I can get you?" The boy tried to smile but missed by a mile. He did manage to say in wavering voice, "Yes sir. Would you find me my Daddy." 183 words |