The Boy with No Name~by Patrick Kevin O’Shea

 

 

The Boy with No Name

Aways on his own, standing alone.
Every day the same, away from the queue.

Hot summer days, his day a haze. Always are grey, tinted with blue…

Outside looking in, never ever within, out of the game the boy with no name.

Cold and forlorn like cold November rain. Feeling the pain always the same…

The playground sound around him so loud. Hiding within his sniffing, sad sighs.

Eyes welling up, waiting to cry. Watching the world passing him by.

Wulfrunian
Poetry by
Patrick
Copright@writtenby
Patrick Kevin O’Shea
30/04/2019