A small joy swells till the ribcadge hurts and tears of anticipation form.
A living thing; blooming inside... and hope grows.
A second heart beat; another soul attached.
The movement of a butterfly becomes the movement of a fish, becomes the movement of baby girl...
How I cherish all the days that go back to that day;
When I was your cocoon.
May 13, 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment