With One Hand On The Rocking Crib
M
Mark Heathcote
0
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With one hand on the rocking crib,
the wind sometimes takes charge
and even sleepless eyes fall prey
to alarms and wolves, baying for blood.
Death, he takes no prisoners, they say.
Today, I light another candle-
for my dearly departed daughter
on her birthday and wish sincerely.
I had one hand on her crib, still joyously rocking.
Rocking not to sleep but to wake.
Bu şiiri puanla
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