To G.O.S.H. Poem by chris orton

It is not for here, the talk of grey that can infect your soul in this great city.

Only where a piece of magic, fun and love from the boy who wouldn't grow up touch the real world.

Close your eyes and feel the pure white shaft of light that guide all who need their help to them.

Hope and healing are offered to all. We beg to this bastion of care to ease our pain and heal our young.

A symbol of hope to all those who are travelling the hardest of journey's.

To know where it is, to know it exists, can be enough to ease the worries of parenthood.

A collection of souls who's goodness becomes greater than the sum of all.

There are bedroom doors in this world that will never be opened again, that you couldn't touch, they hold the pain of loss.

Doors that are stared at as parents ache with the loss and knowledge of an unfulfilled life.

You banish these doors and allow us to look at them with sighs of relief.

Life and possibilities exist behind these doors because of your skill and dedication.

I have never needed your help, but I need you to be.

Continue to share, continue to be that beacon of hope and know,

we love you.