Cradle Of Love

Certain death awaits a newborn,
alone on a basement floor.
Softly foot steps fades in the distance,
at the closing of the basement door. Winter's raging just beyond the walls,
a wind ' chill that staggers the Soul.
Shattered windows give no protection,
yet the newborn feels no cold! Little eyes staring at a sight unseen.
It's the brightness of a Golden Rod!
This staff of life warms the newborn,
as he is cradled in the arms of God!

by William Roseboro Sr.

Other poems of WILLIAM ROSEBORO SR. (2)

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