Barren Woman's Prayer

I who am childless see a hunger there

For more than new-made loaves and cherry pies.

There is a spirit-hunger in his eyes,

A love unfed, a craving for the care

Of one who holds him special. With an air

Of nonchalance he laughs but his heart cries

For childhood's joyous heritage with skies

Rainbowed with deep affection ever fair.

Yet she who feeds his body fails to see

He needs the manna of her arms, her kiss,

Her tender words, her love's sure alchemy

To feed his soul within its chrysalis--

These hungry lads, help me to feed and bless,

Who having mothers still are motherless.