The morning sun was gentle, but the air carried a quiet sadness over the green grass. Little Lily sat all by herself, her tiny arms hugging her knees, eyes wet and trembling. Her mother, Libby, had walked away once again — leaving her baby behind. No one knew why the bond between them had grown so weak, but Lily’s heart could not understand. She only knew that her mom was gone, and the soft grass beneath her could not give the warmth she longed for.
Lily looked around, confused, hoping her mother would turn back. Every little sound made her lift her head with fragile hope — the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, or the shadow of another monkey passing by. But it was never Libby. Each minute made Lily’s cries louder, more desperate, until her tiny voice echoed through the forest. It was the cry of a baby too small to face the world alone.
Libby, from a distance, looked back once. She paused, but only for a moment. Maybe she thought leaving Lily would teach her independence. But Lily was still too young to understand such a hard lesson. Her little hands reached for comfort that wasn’t there. Her tears made small drops on the ground, glistening like broken pearls.
The wind brushed softly over her fur, as if nature itself wanted to console the lonely baby. Her sobs grew quieter, replaced by soft whimpers of exhaustion. The scene was heart-wrenching — a fragile life sitting helpless on the cold grass, waiting for a mother’s love that didn’t return.
Pity small Lily, the baby who only wanted warmth — but instead found loneliness in the open field.
