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Branwen
 
The tiny jolt
of footsteps in my belly,
stamping little feet,
her way to let me know
she wanted out,
time was it now to labour,
her need to stretch,
to give her space to grow.

The pat-pat-pat
of footsteps down the hallway,
requests for drinks,
for potty,
for a hug.
My darling daughter,
blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel,
your smile so gorgeous,
toddling cuddle-bug.

An adult now,
the footsteps made by high heels.
She's moving out...
this is the day she'll wed.
Will I again hear precious tell-tale footsteps?
Perhaps, in years to come,
grandkids instead.



To my precious daughter,
Branwen









By cherryk

© 2019 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Brain Tease (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Brain Tease (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Brain Tease (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Brain Tease (challenge has been closed)


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