Prone

She is just a babe in arms

Probably a babe in the woods

Naive and inexperienced

Her sensories still developing

She cannot detect the danger around her

She may look so babealicious

But she is just a babe in arms

Not yet independent still helpless

She cannot stand on her own

Probably she is still a babe in the woods

Like a flower growing on thorns

Its beautiful petals, destined to fate

But lucky she, for kind hearted

Who cleared the danger; by setting a watch

Everytime she takes a step, it ticks.