Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2016
cry baby, cry, though you are no crybaby
cry, baby cry, they must hear you in the end
those whose privilege it is to dispense favours
hope, baby hope, confetti might drift your way
whispered on by your delayed gratification
I always wonder what exactly a baby is saying when she cries
david mungoshi
Written by
david mungoshi  Gweru, Zimbabwe
(Gweru, Zimbabwe)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems