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Call of an Infant Child
In the silence of the night
The full moon can be seen shining bright
The moon shatters with a piercing scream
A babies wail or so it does seem
A clutching hand reaches out to the sky
The infant in a crib of rubble does lie
Waiting, waiting for his mother to come
His young face bitter with tears
This infant child has his fears
Days pass and he is all alone
His throat is sore, his crying changes tone
All he can do is silently moan
For a family he had never known
Waiting, waiting for his mother to come
His rosy cheeks were now pale
His little heart did fail
His warm hands were now cold
He needed someone to love him, to kiss and hold
His hazel eyes closed and rested
Like a bird in the rubble he nested
Waiting, waiting for his mother to come