I cry grown-woman tears in this grown-woman's body, A body wornout, weary, bruised,

overwrought with fear. A woman who cries out in fear of losing the promise, the hope.

A grown woman's body lies awake in the night. A grown-woman's body is in plight.

I turn on the light, hoping the promise can get me back to sleep before the next day.

The promise, is a promise is a promise, I pray. I cannot sleep the night away untill the promise 

comes back to steal away the pain. I do not fall so fast asleep, as sleep slaps me once again 

wide awke. Only to pierce me with the silence; restlessness' hungers. It gains nothing by way

of physical food, if water is lacking in the body, this night. Hunger in a grown-woman's body

can't fight restlessness without like a baby's suckling on mama's milk, a kept promise produces

an adorable dozing off. Wthout, a tustling at the crown of a promise,  (kept) produes a new nocturnal joy. without

a hustling to keep the promise true,  ( kept)  produes a song on the tongue a whistle on the lips. A

bird's melody with the sunrise. Sounds like a teet  teet teet , bleep bleep bleep. All

tied to a cute groove on the radio.