The baby

He, cute and tender in the cradle moved,
when the wind rustled past as the music,
through the flute in the wooded forest
touching the innocent and fragile,
thought that the worldwas all too good
a place to live and in his sleep smiled,
that all his needs would be taken care of,
with an intermittent twitch of his lips
showing his desperate anger why he
was thrown out of his cozy protective orb
for the angel that lulled him to sleep
Sometime was away tending other infants
May be the wandering angels are also
Targeted by sinister looks and naughty, bestial.