Awakened much too soon;
so premature that glow,
her budding mouth was closed.
So warm but without bloom;
so silent as the tomb,
the sound within her froze
Her marker leaves no joy
though flowers shadow where
her mom has left them there.
A faded, rattled toy_
the sun a faithful ploy
as if it somehow cared.
So somberly beautiful, Jackie. ♥
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Thank you, Hannah. It is about an old wound…
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