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the child of a distant mother
whose cry ran dry over the other,
the child of nothingness in winter
whose feet ran cold to the toe,
to whom were she without
a glow to the unknown?
for whom need she commute
when she does crawl than norm?
then who must follow when she cries
to the voice of a soul child; so dry?
where is the father gone too long
or were there a mother, done too long?
whose child a tender care must one render
to which child than love of a parent?
her lips cracked in instances
and tears long soaked in her tearful skin...