The child touching the mother’s hair
watching the touching I sit behind them
watching the touching, wishing the touching
would never stop.
When did you start to write stories?
the child asks the poet.
Not until I was in my 30’s
but I was writing poems when I was a child
like you.
oh my ! how glorious !!! thank you…
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So glad you wrote, Cheryl … Thank you.
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Lovely and peaceful
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