Foundlings lament beneath their shrouds
For the Givers they never knew.
Shouts of terror, gone unheard, loud
And bright in the fright of selected few.
Shadows cast beneath sunlight's flags
Are trademarked captions made of stained silk.
They trod the daylit bog in dusty rags,
Secretly living, they and their ilk.
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 3:10 PM UTC
Foundlings lament beneath their shrouds
For the Givers they never knew.
Shouts of terror, gone unheard, loud
And bright in the fright of selected few.
Shadows cast beneath sunlight's flags
Are trademarked captions made of stained silk.
They trod the daylit bog in dusty rags,
Secretly living, they and their ilk.