THE SAVIOUR

THE SAVIOUR

How weak a child when his dear mum
Leaves him in garden and goes home.
He gets too frightened and too glum.
He can't stay there, and he can't roam.

He just becomes a chick of bird
With wings unfeathered and dumb tongue.
It falls from its nest to the ground,
With none to help, to beg too young.

No one can please him but that face;
She only can give words that soothe.
Only her soft hand and its grace
His ruffled hair can gently smooth.

He cries and shouts and does not want
Except her face of kindest smile.
If she comes all gets quite all right,
And he feels that life goes so well.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH