I sit and wait by the plastic chairs,
Awaiting the thought of arriving home
Pier boats roaring by the distance
And strong winds howling into the night.
As I wait patiently
I am rewarded by the sounds
Of a baby, crying and in the hands of a man
Who did not know the child's mother.
And his tears echo in front the walls
Of my heart
And his little body, flailing delicately
Under the kind man,
Awaiting his mother's return.
And such a sight to behold.
That the cries of a child,
Could warm my heart
Under the cold howling rain.
That amidst the changing times,
A man with such buff shoulders
And menacing tattoos, and big ol' pants,
Could hold a lil' ol' tot with delicate hands
Trying to soothe the tears of someone else's child.
And it warmed my mind into believing
That for a split second,
The world stood still, to look at the child,
Crying on his arms, and shooking and weak.
The world stopped for a minute
To realize that brute-looking men
Have more hearts than those of whom
Have a face of a saint
Who goes to **** and steal
People's possessions. People's hearts.