Children of God-Happiness Pile

Holding the baby three tiny weeks old,
Pinkish thin skin costs more than the gold,
Opened blue eyes looking wisely inside,-
'Who are you, lady, I am starting the ride'.
Small dotted rash on her cheeks from the sweat,
Cold piano fingers might play in duet,
Shivering helpless sensation spred out,
'Help me survive'.They will do, no dout.
Have you lived in a Heaven or somewhere else,
Your mother with joy gladly gave you a chance.
You all , tiny babies, unborn, killed , unneeded,
Not loved , not desired or being breast feeded,
Remember us , instantly making relations,
Not thinking about new genarations.
Fulfilling all passions firing flame,
Remember us, guide crazy instics in game
To the road with flowers blooming through smile-
Children of God-happiness pile.