New York, USA
Once cocooned in darkness,
Now forced into the light,
Until he feels his mother's touch,
He'll wage his mighty fight.
So clear the eyes of innocence,
Of this child, just minutes old,
The secrets behind them hiding,
Forgotten, dismissed, untold.
He has the look of an aged man,
With a furrowed, troubled brow,
Frowning almost as if he knows,
The struggles life will endow.
Tightly in a blanket wrapped,
Placed gently in her arms,
Contented sighs of comfort,
Protected from life's harms.
[This message has been edited by BSC (edited 05-31-2000).]