Poetry

Baby lies so fast asleep
that I dare not take her
into my arms,
too big the chance to wake her.
Rosy cheeks and a raspberry mouth
like a little angel, a sweet delight
but she’s someone else’s.
Sometimes at night
nothing can cuddle her tears away
and a shrill little voice
hangs in the air, piercing the darkness
cutting right until day
and those are the times
that mothers and fathers do pray.