Not my child
Laying limp in the sand
Face down in the sea
Not my child
Huddled unbreathing
In a cargo container
Not my child
Stranded alone
Dead on a beach
Not my child
The curl of his fingers
The curve of his cheek
Not my child
Hair soft as thistledown
On the nape of his neck
Reblogged this on reubenwoolley.
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great poem, story of the times we live in.
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