The Outside Poem by Meghan Fenwick-Boland
The Outside
Was he waiting for the call of his name,
Waiting for somebody to embrace him,
To pull him back into the warmth?
He waited in vain,
Huddled like a pigeon,
Seeking shelter from the rain.
No outstretched hand appeared,
No fairytale rescue in sight.
Oh, the ache this stirs within me
As I think of how low and alone he felt.
I saw him there, yet didn't stop;
I passed on by.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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6/23/2025 8:44:15 AM # 1.0.0
