The seed of man, in woman's body set,
Embraces egg, and fetus does beget.
The fetus, growing, does so the woman swell,
That she, for love of man, thinks all is well.
At last, through woman's pain and agony,
The fetus, pushed, comes out a baby free.
He cries, perhaps, to breathe the harsh fresh air,
Who never breathed before and had no care.
Warm milk to soothe his throat he then does seek,
And murmers, smiles, and reaches out a hand,
To grasp you, independent, where you stand.
The rights of man then practises to shout,
When he the concept learns---without a doubt!
Copyright © Brian Faulkner