born in this world (a quatrain collection) by Toni L.A. Cross


born, birthed into  a dark place

squalling, hot tears on a red face

dirt, unresisting cradle of sod

cobwebs, spiders spinning a cap of lace


helpless, laying where angels dare not trod

waiting, hoping for some act of God

flailing, weak and stubborn little mite

strange, wee ethereal creature most odd


squinting, young eyes searching for first sight

knowing, somewhere there must be light

hope, in unlikely foreign ground

strength, unreasonable will to fight


patient, lying in a mound

pensive, listening for some sound

mystery, to simply astound

unknown, undiscovered yet renowned