|
AS a drenched, drowned bee | |
Hangs numb and heavy from a bending flower, | |
So clings to me | |
My baby, her brown hair brushed with wet tears | |
And laid against her cheek; | 5 |
Her soft white legs hanging heavily over my arm | |
Swinging heavily to my movements as I walk. | |
My sleeping baby hangs upon my life, | |
Like a burden she hangs on me. | |
She has always seemed so light, | 10 |
But now she is wet with tears and numb with pain | |
Even her floating hair sinks heavily, | |
Reaching downwards; | |
As the wings of a drenched, drowned bee | |
Are a heaviness, and a weariness. | 15 |
|