The weight of her in my arms,
unchanged by time.
The smell of her
sweet, musky joy so pure.
Traces of the baby she was play across a woman’s face.
The full, ebullient round of my love,
the swell of heart,
it’s almost too much to bear.
Yet we endure
in this dance,
She as my girl
and I as her mama,
holding fast to her hand.
I took that picture.😝
I know! And I wrote the poem about you. (I should’ve credited you as the photog, though). 😉