Image by Jannie Funster
An Orphans Poem
when angels finally sweep down to this
attic where we wait with our boxes of snow
and our avalanches of stale corn muffins
when we take to their ship and we sail
our feathers and our rags into tapestries
of golden silk and silver chandelier
when our boomerangs of hope return
on wings of chocolate cake baked by mothers
who smell sweeter than Easter morning rain
when we fly free from this rusted turret
our cardboard tiaras and nametags forgotten
love at last will be only song that sings us.
Jannie Funster
Posted over on her site Jannie Funster; will sing for donuts and beer
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