A mother cries to the night,
no longer able to hold her baby tight.
A shattered promise,
humming the mournful anthem of anguish.
A broken, dusty crib,
to accompany fate's twisted cruel fib.
YOU ARE READING
Speaking to Lost Souls
PoetryA collection of thoughts and emotion. Forgive me. I have a poet's soul, but not a poet's pen.
Someone's Baby
A mother cries to the night,
no longer able to hold her baby tight.
A shattered promise,
humming the mournful anthem of anguish.
A broken, dusty crib,
to accompany fate's twisted cruel fib.
