your baby girl

tiny yawns and sleepy sighs
nursery rhymes and pink pink colours
soft kicks with piercing cries
the obvious lot of a tender princess
nature owns her alot.
where she arrived to dwell
a homely fragrance!
familiar scent of newborns
of oils and baby lotions
amazingly the joy is come.
of new chores and nursing magics

homely baby girl,
she attacks the nipple with mild force
she curls in the tender palm of the mother,
the second womb of the human seed
light passion ardon the faces of grandparents
because the tiny human is here.
washing napkins or changing diapers,
truly the chores have changed.
still keeping awake all night
to rock the crying princess
is the mother's love, worry and joy made in one.

in a quiet garden

where the singing birds make matching chorus without a her music director.
where the rustle of happy leaves ignite the freshness of young mind.
where the aura of a cascading fragrance invite life with full eagerness.
where a quiet passion overules the mind, to nurse a humble man.
where the deafning silence is thick enough to be sliced with a knife.
where the tugs in the brain will be slow and have relief from every guilt.
where the happy bahamas accept your pace with a quiet revolt.
where the touch of escaping breeze reveals the hidden thought of nature.
where the matching ants send pleasant signal to a war veteran
where the artist invite abstract and fairies to form a life.
where the heavy hearted go with their burden to settle a score with silence.
where the rythm of the mind dangles and mingles with riddle to form a single jingle.
the whisper of the ghost is audible,
the jamming knuckles of the fighting ants are heard,
the breathing of the trees are felt.
in this quiet garden, silence is priceless.