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Michelle Smith
Every Mother's Son

Who will cry for you
When you are lying cold and blue,
Ants and beetles find comfort
In your embrace - the acrid taste,
No rain to wash away the violent stain,
Or comfort to ease the strain upon a weary Mother's brow
To hide the pain of bitter tears - unfulfilled years,
Who will cry for you when you are lying cold and blue?
In the spotlight, seduced by the clear moonlight, too late to take flight,
And how it captures the beauty of your face, in all its grace,
But there-are no applause or cheers,
Only anger and tears - a tragedy
Of wasted years,
No sparkle in the eyes that once shined
With great expectations, only a frightened, bewildered, frozen gaze,
So who will cry for you when you are lying cold and blue?
What brings you to this dismal place - make haste,
For a malevolent wind brings forth an early frost as companion
To a rose amongst the thorns,
Its icy breath will seal your fate,
Yet mourns in sympathy
At life's tragic malady
Of broken promises, arrested dreams,
Poverty and anger, heinous crimes and disease,
These are the signs of our time,
The time that we live in,
Much disturbed and unforgiving.
A pulse, a heartbeat, a little more time
To do what's right, and undo what went wrong,
To listen to a Nightingale's song,
To walk amongst the Autumn leaves,
And feel the cool air breeze upon thy skin -
Wishful thinking, for there is no cry more chilling
Then the birth of misery's child taking its first breath,
So close your eyes and rest,
For Angels whisper softly while you sleep.