A Child is Born
A child is born.
So what?
In every land
Each day
For good or ill,
Long life or short,
A child is born.
A child is born.
To some,
An extra mouth
To feed.
Unwelcomed
In a famished land
A child is born.
A child is born.
To some,
Applauded heir
To power or fame
The world’s admiring gaze,
A child is born.
A child is born.
To us.
To live and die
For us,
And live again.
A child is born
To us.
To me.
Copyright © John Puckett | Year Posted 2024
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