Orphans
Their names come back sometimes in dreams:
children not mine, but mine to save.
Their faces have been gone for years;
I know their eyes were big and grave.
They would be men and women now --
don't ask me why my heart still aches.
I never meant to spend my life
in breaking rules for children's sakes,
or in fulfilling vows like this,
to raise a stranger's child for her!
And yet I would not for the world
have things set back the way they were.
For she of all of them is dear,
of all of them most nearly mine
(though she's so like her mother now,
it sends the tingles down my spine).
She's grown up gentle, sweet and fair --
I've gotten something right, it seems.
And yet no matter what I do
their names keep coming back in dreams.