the babies
don't know what's coming.
what's
ahead for them
down the road,
once off
the milk, beyond
the cradle
and crib.
they just keep coming,
keep
arriving,
in pink and blue
swaddling clothes.
blue eyed and brown,
new hope
for an old world,
battered and
confused.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment