THE PROBE
There is no fonder like mother
But no realm as fonder
Oh the heaven scented
She was offshore, in ectopic
Shambling without you,
As eager as egocentric
Let the doctor reveal
The prognosis of the ominous
That was put to sleep for selflessness
Got dulled so much as urban dwellers
Questions arise, answerer vanished
You may well think she is preposterous
Oh Lord, May You calm your wrath
Pity on us, pertaining to juvenile
We are afflicted over Connecticut,
You, Anne Marie Murphy
Should be surnamed Mercy
Taking kids to Eden, as a company
The year of twelve in brevity
Was like a seesaw
That we never foresaw
The anger of ocean,
The grief of blood
Were consoled with Olympics in hearts
Thus, a sheaf of blank paper will sway
Whilst being whisked away
Wondering, having startled with vehemence,
Will you banish me into ambivalence?
Do not care, how construed
Given she is courageous.
Munzevi
31.12.2012
Raynes Park