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Thursday, September 8, 2011

September dribbles - 8


Mother labors birthing him. His dark eyes slide away.
Mother labors, nurtures him. His interest seems to stray.
Mother labors, entertains. He never looks her way.
She takes his hand.
Building towers, brick by brick, smooth wood on palm outstretched; he doesn’t glance, but smiles at towers; she loves him.

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