The orphans of this creative place

We stand outside the brightly lit, beautiful home of people whom we know not.

Happy laughter rings forth from the slightly open windows

The wind gently ruffles the curtains, as if saying hello

But what it woefully does, is bring the mocking wonderous aroma

To the noses of those watching with longing and a hope for sweet sustenance

The table is laden with richly cooked delectable meats

Cakes, treats and wonderful accompaniments fit for a king

The queen mother panders to the needs of the princes and princesses

The king sits at the head of the table, drinking heady wine

Around the table sit the chosen

Outside, looking in...are the orphans, the homeless

The forgotten.

Their bellies grumbling, for they cannot remember

When they last had a decent meal

The orphans turn away, shuffling back to the abandoned building

which they now call home

They had run away from the foster home,

Where they had gone just as hungry

Made to toil and work all day, then fed from the scraps left over

After the favorite and pampered had had their fill

But out here on their own, they find scraps to eat, without the toil and drudge of uncaring stoical masters

Sometimes if they ae lucky

Some kind soul will offer them a morsel along the way

But most days, crestfallen, hungry, sad and with hearts and heads downcast, they sleep and dream

Of the day when fortune favors the forgotten

The light of achievement shines from heavenly places

And the forgotten become shining stars

Bellies filled to capacity

Success and joy, at long last, cometh in the morning.