Tender hold.

The lambs aren't silent without a bleating, although composed within a tender hold, the youngest of my very womb, a comfort in a mothers fold ,

times of loves  expression shall there for always see, the treasure is which makes this life.. a place inside of me

There might be days we get it right,  and others only halfway there, but little do they know of love and a mothers care 

Silence not the lamb who bleats nor hush the baby when he cries, love is has a way of knowing so much more than we disguise