child born of woman - or - woman of fire

stirring echoes, generations gone by,
feel my touch and stifle my cry,
in slumberland i live til my yearning amounts,
to you counting spoonfuls of milk to 6 ounce,
right now i am peaceful and gently stir in my sleep,
all safe snug and warm in your charge and your keep,
this wont be for long, one day i will make,
your life very difficult and so hard to take,
so watch me contented as my dreams overtake,
and enjoy the sweet silence until i awake,

as fire burns high and day begets night,
the spirit born of woman through hellfire will fight,
for the love of her child or eyes of her man,
to fall upon her not her neighbour and can,
pick apart any lie or even the truth,
she can be as a lady or laddishly uncouth,
gentle as nightfall or fight nail and tooth,
so woman, a mystery and that is the truth.

c.d.lee