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.