Hand prints on craft paper | 1 |
and where have my children gone? | 2 |
Too soon they walked, they talked, | 3 |
they found their balance | 4 |
and the world. | 5 |
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Swept up in school, the games, | 6 |
the rules, the after-class activities | 7 |
until the family nucleus was ruined | 8 |
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or so it seemed. | 9 |
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They come back to me in phone calls, | 10 |
pictures of their babies, tales of skinned | 11 |
knees and newly fledged and broken hearts. | 12 |
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I laid my hand into the slippery paint of time, | 13 |
pressed it hard against this paper heart | 14 |
that beats and flows in these | 15 |
that make me Mother. | 16 |