Conundrum
“Don’t go!”
Her tiny hands extending to me.
Her eyes – like the deepest sea.
“I’ll be good.”
Her lips are whispering,
Tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Come see me.”
Hope evaporates as words are spoken.
For a moment she feels numb.
Then like a thunder
Only clearer and bolder
She asks: “Can I call you “mom”?”
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