You could feel the night’s sting, that chill in the air,
a growing awe in this coming darkness was not clear.
An innocent child slapped on the backside to be born
evil surprise the cruelty in a child’s eyes burned scorn.
Like the rosebuds blooming from a protected seed
the flower’s slow death from the spreading of the weeds
A mother’s fear a father left pondering what will he do
feeling cursed by heaven, half pass eleven having no cue.