[ An infant crying in the bedstead ]
A puny tear,
Fists and feet in air
A fading lullaby,
In the pressure-cooker whistle and,
Tinker-bells mid-air
Like a threatening pot of milk on boiling point,
A chicken farm at night
Like a dog’s tail on fire,
A game of cards with a liar
[ Mother (She) picks up the child ]
A pat here and a kiss there
A lap, a swing, best ride of the fair,
The Intoxicating smell of her hair
Like a heavy dew drop on the flower fair,
The comfort of an old wicker chair
Like the first time she had an affair,
A waiting court, a flood light, and a player
