for mom and child
the harvested moon
was too soon to
see only me in the
sunshine of my eye
for too I could not say
it was my I
yet I knew
what you were feeling
because I too was new and the stores of stockpiled
nourishments flowed through
the spigot of ownership
arranged by my own time
this we felt could never
be mine even if I
had stayed in line
joseph harlacher 111
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/papa-s-candle-stil-flickers/
