An Orphan Boy Poem by Md. Ziaul Haque

I see the orphan,
Each day,
He stands like a tree,
Staring at the horizon.

Perhaps he searches,
For something precious,
Like lost diamonds,
Yes, valued they were, his parents.

He was like a forceful wind,
But has turned into,
A dead stone,
With a numb mind.

Orphan he is,
To the society,
But not to his heart,
Where his parents ever exist.

Like a lost star,
He does appear to me,
At times think I about him,
And his thorny future.