He was little

He was little

a child of three

with Big black eyes

Which wanted to see.

His eyes kept rolling

Trying to find

A speck of light

In deep design

He felt tethered

Shackles abound

Arms twisted

Knees on ground

But still he wouldn’t

Make a sound.

Questioning mind

Looking harassed

Where to go

To seek solace

And mothers touch.

“Mother o mother”

All he could think

“Where’d you go

Im here still”.

The little child

Confused and numb

Felt up his mother

Climbed up her lap

Therein lay his world

Closed in her warm clasp