Ill Wind
The little piece of flesh had no airs,
he was toddling free,
his facial muscles moved in abandon,
as his eyes lit in every little recognition,
he lay there on the floor,
trying to wriggle and walk,
the world moved around him in limited fashion,
not willing to change,
but he had formed an innocent will,
a pure and godly wish,
to learn all and he will,
he would change and change for better,
as of now his mind could not say,
he thought little and pondered still less,
I do not know from where he would catch the ill wind,
all along his age,
by the time he is a grown piece of flesh,
he would have gathered wile with willy nilly,
and began his worldly journey of hit and dash.
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