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Click hereHe arrived a squalling scrap of humanity,
fatherless with a child mother,
in a world of runaways scrabbling for existence.
Wrapped in a T shirt clamped
to a scrawny breast he suckled, eyes unfocused,
amid the stench of poverty and squalor.
Dawn's hard bright light and another bundle
of detritus in a darkened corner,
the remains of two brief lives.
She'd loved him and called him Luke.
I'm gonna tweet this beauty. My jaw dropped at the words. Just wonderful Annie.
but beautifully sketched in the minimum words. Ty
i think this might be one of my favourites of yours! so visual, so stark ... that line 'Dawn's hard bright line' is a kicker, and the piece's darkness is given a little tenderising with your final line. well done, this was so worth reading, i'm glad i got to :rose: