Love. 

Oh sweet boy, you are to me,

Like a whistle is to its swing,

As a piece of sand is to the sea,

Or a leaf is to rooted tree. 

Your head nestled close to mine,

Is as a tock is to its time,

A VHS clicked to rewind,

Linked as ink is to its line. 

The steady stream of your breath,

Mingled close to my breast,

A moment I dare not let,

Escape my heart, not now, not yet. 

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One thought on “Love. 

  1. Bowling, Elizabeth says:

    BEST ONE YET! EXACTLY – NAILED IT!!! The miracle of a mothers love is that you will have it again and again for each child – hard to believe there is that much love to go around but it is God’s gift! Love you Pammy Jane – very well expressed!

    Liked by 1 person

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