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mom poem

at dawn, he said
my soul is a dark ploughed field
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
for truth, for love
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
better than granite
why do you always stand there shivering
i saw with open eyes
leave the lovely words unsaid
though i am little as all little things
when night drifts along the streets of the city

 



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