Wondrous sensations, of which
I have no words in thought,
come to me as visual aromas and
tasteful sounds of feeling
warmth lovingly pounding heart
within breast.

In safety of maternal embrace
I know not of the world’s
strife in daily conflicts for
acquiring of power and dominance
by the few over many through
controlled pain.

My world is simple and singular
complementing my fragile ego as
cooing sounds emanating from my
own gentle giant soften, quiet my
fussy tirades.

Oh, that this state of being could
never end is my unspoken wish and
to have all my needs known,
attended is a right I demand as a
selfish imp.

That mother has needs is true
but that I exist is sufficient unto
their fulfillment since if I weren’t
the demander of all things, mother
wouldn’t be.