Soft Sounds

Mute that trumpet.
Mute that horn.
Mute the cryin'
when babies are born.
Maybe they're cryin'
'cause they're here.
Maybe they're cryin'
'cause they remember fear.
Mute that trumpet.
Mute that horn.
The babies need quiet
like before they were born.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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