To a child their world is their mother. Criticism wanted.
Soft humming from a mother rocking her baby.
Eyes canvassing a barren land.
Searching the dried plain,
A heart aching for a place to belong.
Her eyes look down to glance upon,
The life in her arms.
A drop of hope filled with sorrow,
Lands upon an innocent cheek.
Innocent eyes look up from their cradle of flesh,
To behold the world.