I am grateful for a daughter.
Mama being sick you insist on company as a condition of sleep.
My hand the center of a prayer sandwhich
Before making a good escape.
Sacred trust, I am glad you did not come to me in youth.
Youth has too much passion and too little wisdom with which to guide it.
Even in sunset children are good
Children and a darkness not to be envied are good.
Bill Grace
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/three-hands-raised-as-if-in-prayer/
