D Linden Thomas


Every curve about you
Reminds me of a swing
Your legs spread out upon the sky
More wings than anything.

Fun is not a baby born
Too early to survive.
Back and forth the cradle goes
My back, your arms, our eyes.

Let me love you mother be
Push you to the sky.
Cry and shake the chain again
You are so very high.

Little one I love you so
Oh please come back to me.
Your skin is whiter than the moon
The playground children sing.

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