A search, A quest.

Abided with elegance, A lot has drenched,
A stare of care and a kiss of love; that quench
Reddened cheeks lost it’s charm,
A child’s value longs to farm.
Tender fingers crave the affectionate world,
fiddles and wonders, what better could mould.
A child needs the Mother,
The agony still smothers;
She dies each day, and the night she cries.
For the child has flawed, dreams vaguely slide,
Sorrows trickle; that essense of touch,
She sits still and watch
The child begs to be loved and to love,
Standing alone with a glimpse above.
A child’s urge: to be accepted,
The mother wants to be respected.
Nor questions or actions answered,
Neither does she gets volunteered.
Holding a curse, little sore feet walk
Mother; is what her mouth bark.
I am sorry, Mother; forgive me.
Relentlessly determined as she,
There she goes, the child goes by, Repenting with longing eye.
Creeps the child to the wild,
where she won’t find the traits being mild.

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