In a quiet town park,
Close to the call of a singing lark,
I see a tiny little person,
Swaddled in cloth
Eyes bright and open.
Meanwhile, a moth
Flutters nearby the cute little one,
Who is resting in their mother's arms,
Looking so sweet and adorable,
Many are this newborn's charms.
They were only born so recently,
Yet their little fingers grasp so tightly,
They nestle and gurgle so sweetly,
They smile and pout so brightly.
After this sight, hours later I think alone,
Wishing I had someone so sweet,
So cuddly, so little of my own.
With my fingers tickling their tiny feet,
Them asleep in the sight of my eyes,
As soft and vividly pink as baby mice.