Here you will find the Poem Christmas at the Orphanage of poet Bill Knott
But if they'd give us toys and twice the stuff most parents splurge on the average kid, orphans, I submit, need more than enough; in fact, stacks wrapped with our names nearly hid the tree: these sparkling allotments yearly guaranteed a lack of--what?--family?-- I knew exactly what it was I missed as we were lined up number rank and file: to share my pals' tearing open their piles meant sealing the self, the child that wanted to scream at all You stole those gifts from me; whose birthday is worth such words? The wish-lists they'd made us write out in May lay granted against starred branches. I said I'm sorry.