Gone Baby Gone.

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Wrapped in swaddling clothes
Water seeping through
A mixture of smells, mingling
With his cries
Chilling.

Left at the mercy of the elements
Sun, wind, earth and rain
Soiling himself, no one to clean
His body
Smelling.

She wasn’t prepared for him
He’d given only nine months notice
A period spent in regret
No one to advice
Shocking.

She doesn’t know the father
Neither sees herself a mother
She’s done her part
She can give no more
Depressing.

Could it be the hunger?
Or the exposure to the elements
Or the lack of his mother’s bosom?
All too soon, he’s gone
Would have been a Blessing.

 

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