Born an outcast in a world of slanting sunshine, Small hands grasping, grasping for one friendly beam. "Play with me, children, See, I am one of you!" Sound of children's thoughtless laughter, Sound of many small feet running. Sunshine flooding highwtys, warming darkest corners, Tense hands straining, straining for one friendly beam. "Let me in, young folks, I am a woman, grown now." Looks of open condescension, Looks of passion, hot and brooding. Friendly sunshine, made by God to serve all creatures, Old hands, passive, yellow as the slanting beam. "Let me die, strangers, I am what you made me." Sense of strange and dark foreboding, Sense that worthwhile life was wasted. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RETIREMENT; TO MR. IZAAK WALTON by CHARLES COTTON PROGRESSIVE HEALTH by CARL DENNIS A BALLAD OF LIFE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE UPON HIS LEAVING HIS MISTRESS by JOHN WILMOT THE BOOK OF THE LETTER, SELECTION by ABRAHAM ABULAFIA |