97: Worrisome

97: Worrisome

The little girl stands by the door,
Watching her mother,
Her thoughts in condition poor
Thinking thoughts of many another.

The little girl says nothing.
She watches as her mother sobs,
Wracking her body the crying
The tears falling in blobs

Mother what’s wrong,
What can I do to make it better?
Deary dear, it’s a sad song
I shan’t sing, you’ll read it in a letter

One day I’ll tell you,
But hush child, away to bed.
You must be tired, true?
And always remember what mother said

 

~ Serendipitous

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