The mother clutched at her emaciated form,
The baby lay limply in her arm.
Can she blame the world, or, only herself?
Who can bring her baby back to her healthy self?
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She makes the real love of a promise ''My child, her inner being weep'' Can I ever make you walk, Praying to God does help sometimes, Worry and anxiety, though gnaws at her minds. Who or will you creep? Then she walks to life Who will care when she goes? So she wants to live a long,
mandiraji, enjoyed your poem with pain