Disclaimer: This is a user generated content submitted by a member of the WriteUpCafe Community. The views and writings here reflect that of the author and not of WriteUpCafe. If you have any complaints regarding this post kindly report it to us.
“Rock-a-bye baby in the tree top
when the wind blows the cradle will rock”,
she whispers, lulling her baby to sleep.
Alas, no cradle was ever mine to keep.
Never known the touch of a mothers doting affection.
Or her careful tending, striving for perfection.
But truly mine are my musings and…
[[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
