Poetry Blogs (compassionate)
I was not there when he was made
I was not there when he was born
I was not there for his first birthday
I was, there to guide his first steps.
I was there when his mother voiced her disdane and pushed him away.
For the tantrums that felt eternal
The sick days that became my sick days
I was there as his father began a new family and forgot about his last.
When he had no food to...
Saturday 13th April 2019 3:21 am