The cradle robs
The hand that rocks it,
The essence runs through them
Like water…
Dashing through,
Hitting the floor,
It splashes,
Then
Drips.
It forms a pool
Reflecting the hands
That once held it.
The cradle robs
The hand that rocks it,
The essence runs through them
Like water…
Dashing through,
Hitting the floor,
It splashes,
Then
Drips.
It forms a pool
Reflecting the hands
That once held it.