There is a kind
I don’t know if you will ever know
cradling your child in your arms
so small, crying, and you hold her
softly and so peacefully
quietly, you sleep,
in such calm.
There is a time
when I don’t know if you will ever see
wanting, to cradle you in my arms
so grown, hurting, and I can’t hold you
gone and a stranger
angrily, so far away
in another place.