Mama

How is it?

You pull and take—

yet under your control

we barely find, not make,

tomorrow, so slim,

my heart tries to keep

rhythm within, do you…

know why we cry?

Mama?

Um, yes, forgive me,

I ask, as you dance

across the sky.

3 thoughts on “Mama

      1. Not only this one, I often sit contemplating and mulling over the words. My brain, like the moon, show where the words have left craters upon their impact.

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