The softness of a new baby's skin
gently dipped in warmed water
like the light begging at the end
of the tunnel
she cried
but she cried for joy
for inside there is no pain
inside there is only the joy
of a wake
of jassing until the wail of the dawn
Now comfort enough.
Thursday, 17 February 2011 14:22
MEDITATIONS
Written by Burton Beerman
Read 14732 times
Published in
Poetry
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