The Only Child
A beautiful soul with spreading arms, but tired of a constant embrace
a steep valley, grassed and watered by so much pampering
bordered by two massaging hills and round-the-clock sheltering
then much attention is given to the Winchester to always stay refilled.
Wide is mother’s bossom but becoming a soft blockade
strong are father’s arms, enough to be restrictions
their eyes, stationed in all cardinal points of this young life
to measure every alternating radius and changing circumference.
Grateful to dad and mum, they yet not deserve applause
boredom slowly germinating from the show of too much importance
with a younger one, the dry lands will also be riverine
when the seeds are two, this being will become superordinate
please give this child a sibling and with peace, she’ll reconcile.
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