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“Like Sun”
I don’t remember this:
drooling in my crib,
the mom whose name I didn’t yet know,
sipping herb tea,
a loving gaze like sun on my back.
She would sing a song invented for me:
pure.
short.
sweet.
Rays of sun with dust dancing through them,
streaming on to me
as I hugged my stuffed pig.
Time . . . well, time has been time to me.
I’ve been good and bad, and
I’m sure
this did happen.
-Caleb Fisher-Wirth
