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Even as the sun rises on the
page of a new day...
My tired eyes drink in the vision...
Fingers of light dancing across their cherubic faces,
Saddened eyes, as they realize,
Tis I and not mother, bidding them, awake..
I grope from some where deep within...
To them give comfort with softened words..
In vain they fall upon deafened ears...
Nothing,
Nothing save time,
will begin... To calm
the storm in their tiny
innocent hearts.
I could never replace,
nor be the mother
they once knew
It matters not that I tried in earnest,
with full heart...
As I see them off to their day,
I could only want, Upon
their return..
T'would be Their Mothers
loving arms... In my stead....
Saint Croix 1996