PixabayRockabye baby on the tree top, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock. If the bough breaks the cradle will fall, but Mama will catch you, cradle and all...
It was little Annie's favorite song. That year, she turned 5. They had just moved into town. She was the only child of Mr and Mrs Townsend, the rich owners of the Townsend Bank. It was a small town, townfolks were nice and friendly.
Every weekend was a party at the Townsend's, but only the rich and famous would appear. Guests would dance while the live band serenaded, the hall filled with little whispers and giggling, and never ending was the flow of champagne and alcohol. The parties were often the talk of the town. Everyone was impressed. Some were envious of the guest list. Many said they had a ball. Many except one Mrs Townsend.
Mrs Townsend was a beautiful lady, she was gracious and gentle. She loved living a simple quiet life, but her desires were the total opposite from her husband's. Tom Townsend loved the high end life, he was lofty and ambitious. The more attention he had, the bigger his ego grew. His wife was his pride. Men would look at her with luring eyes, and Tom's pride would swell bigger than the hot air balloon.
On quiet days, Sarah would be seen strolling around the garden with little Annie. They built a swing under one of the bigger trees. Some days when Tom comes home early smelling like age old whiskey, Sarah would gently coax little Annie to go to the garden swing and wait for her while she attended to her husband. God knows it would always end with bruises on her body, bruises laced with heartaches.
One mid morning, it happened again. "Go," said Sarah, "just sit there and wait."
And waited, she did.
Little Annie waited, and waited, and waited. Days turned into nights. Seasons came and went. She continued waiting for her mama to come for her.
But her mama never came.
Nobody knew what happened that day. Sarah was never seen appearing since. Nobody dared talk about it.
The Townsends moved away a few years later. But 'til this day, some folks would claim they still hear the faint singing of little Annie's favorite song coming from the garden.
Rockabye baby on the tree top, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock. If the bough breaks the cradle will fall, but Mama will catch you, cradle and all...
art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics
