THE BABIES CRY
The babies cry~
Running out of tears~
Their faces dry~
Mud caked with fear.
The babies cry~
The beavers took the trees~
Water surrounding~
Desolate the doomed place.
The babies cry~
And no one hears~
Hearts are numb~
Turning a deaf ear.
The babies cry~
When evil is near~
The thunder jolts~
Will help ever appear.
The babies cry~
When the forest is bare~
They chopped everything~
With out a thought of reverence steered.
The babies cry~
In far away lands~
Their heads flat~
Permanent to cold unyeilding beds.
The babies cry~
With fur torn away~
These are God’s gifts~
His anger will over pay some day.
The babies cry~
With hope help is on the way~
They wait~
They die each passing day.
The babies cry~
When the sea is soaked~
As oil wilts~
Smothers and coats.
The babies cry~
As they age with wisdom~
Convalesced alone~
Weak in need kept in a prison.
The babies cry~
It is announced every where~
The babies cry~
GOD knows they are dear.
The babies cry~
Running out of tears~
Their faces dry~
Mud caked with fear.
By
Lisa J. Warner
AKA
Lisa Luv
CopyRight1/23/2010@LisaLuvLLC
AllRightsReservedByLisaJ.Warner