Angels Play Their Harps of Gold
The womb of a mother is a cradle for a child to grow in
a nine month gestation grace period is a child's sweet elation
Mother tenderly sings to her little one as she waits to give birth !
A mother is a vessel of purity, also a
Mother's heart, is full of love for her child
Object of her desire, "a baby with ten little toes and ten little fingers"
Tenderly woven thoughts arrive at the font of her pregnancy
Hieroglyphical sounds and body rotations, she is mesmerized
Enchanted by a human life growing inside of her she
Reveres the treasure within her and prays for safe delivery
Search the whole world over and you will never find a purer
Love, than the love a mother has for her child
Over the moon and infatuated with her infant she cradles
Validating her affections to the gem before her eyes
Each time a woman delivers a child, the Angels play their harps of gold.
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment