Baby On Bus


This baby here
amongst the bus,
what's her view
of all this stuff?
Is she scared?
Is she free?
Will she know love
or how to be?
She looks scared
and innocent sweet.
Who can blame her cries
at her mother's teat?
Will the better world,
her grandparents created,
serve her well
with all that is hated?
She cares not if
it's this or all that, she
only cares right where she is at.
But when my soul steeps in
the purity within her face-
she smiles with wonder,
without any haste.
Her saving soul is the past
before my face, I would
give anything to save this place.

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