|
Volunteer WorkChildren of God, all we are yet none exactly the same by far. Many are blessed unharmed by war some almost perfect save for a scar. Children so special everyday I see unwary how hapless they could be at their age they must be happy and free living like any other kids full of energy. My heart cries out for the sight. How could I do to alleviate the plight? I wish to make them feel at least alright Even in tiniest way I wish to share a light. Volunteer I did to go into their midst has given me the chance helping out their needs. Deep is the sorrow my eyes can't deny and keep rivulet of tears flow, unrestrained my heart to weep. So innocent the angelic faces no trace of dream but minds of bits and pieces; eyes staring in total blankness awaits no future but engulfing darkness. The patience I give in sweet indulgence is worth the happiness mirrored in innocence, temporary enjoyment and loving acquiescence until gestures summon back to the world of strange existence. For years I've always been doing these volunteer works give same old feeling and sense of fulfillment that others find menacing if only I have all the means I'll provide them everything. The most amazing part in this volunteer aspect is the real meaning of life's everlasting concept; I feel the passion, the pain and sense of neglect I even cry with them, and laugh at their antics . . . . . . . . . all these; a communion to a once in a lifetime feat. *Pinky* Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
|
|
| |||||||||||||||||||
|