Apr 2009

UnbornIn my hands a secret dear

In my hands a secret dear
Still so fragile, holding near
But endure and persevere
It will yet be born

A humble life that would expire
But in time a threat so dire
As this little child of fire
From its parents torn

When it hatches, things will shatter
Men will flee and women scatter
All the houses, ravaged, tattered
Taste the childer's scorn