Parents in Wartime, unable to cope,
left children, quite helpless, and without much hope.
Social Services took over, the result separation,
Dr. Barnardo's, it was decided, was their destination.
Home, was in castles, so brooding and dark,
where young souls were tortured as they made their mark.
Leisure time, was spent in prayers, and choirs,
cleaning clogs, and stoking the fires.
Rabbit stew, was a regular diet,
and after nine, they were expected to be quiet.
Butlers Pantry, was the one great treat,
with scraps, from what the staff would eat.
Twelve years on, all adults now,
they left Barnardo's, and made a vow.
No child of mine, will suffer such sorrow,
because, I will build them, a better tomorrow.
Yet, Barnardo's today has a different role,
state funded, and caring, it widens its goal.
War changed it function, it gave it more span,
but, destitute orphans, stay part of the plan.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem