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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2209931
An orphan dies leaving behind a painting of his dreams.
A Lonely Orphan’s Dream

The nurse prepared to pack Donnie’s things
for transfer to Goodwill. It had been she who named Donnie.
He was only nine years old when he died;
he was quiet and subdued
and well-liked by
everyone, including the Child Medical Staff

But no one wanted to adopt him. He was a sickly child.
His mother had been a druggie
and Donnie had paid the price
for her habit.

Found by the shelter staff,
in a dumpster behind a homeless shelter;
the note pinned to his tiny shirt,
read: take my son, please.
I love him too much
to make him pay the price for my indulgence.

Whether this woman died or no,
Makes little difference in the scheme
of things. Donnie was nearly dead when found
and shortly after leaving the shelter,
an investigation revealed his mother had also died
after throwing her son away.

Donnie had fought long and hard to grow strong
but it just wasn’t meant to be. He was an artist and everything he saw became a picture.
In his short nine years, his work was highly acclaimed.
The month before he died, he asked me for a large piece of Kitchen Curtain material.
I couldn’t have guessed why he wanted such a thing.
But tears flowed from my eyes now,
as I stared at the picture he had painted there.

He’d always wished for a home in which to live.
And a family to love.
Although sickly, he was a very special child. He could understand far beyond his tender years.
The picture on the fabric depicted a white house with blue trim a,d a fenced-in flower garden in the back...
I carefully folded the curtain once more, packed it into my satchel and looked around the small cubical that had become Donnie's home. "I'm sorry I couldn't adopt you, Donnie," she said. You know I always loved you

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