MOTHER – IT’S YOUR STORY
Mother, this story begins and ends with you
it's your story not mine, I wrote it for you
turning brown leaves to green, dreaming fruits in winter
flowing down the stream of time, building my canoe of
dreams as i went, harboring in love and letting it grow
to fruit in winter turned to early spring
All my dreams lay the other side of the bed of nails, yet
my feet are swift
they fly over the nails
but my Sun still bled gashes of red
and I bled all over my dreams
how long i asked
before my Sun is whole again
The gashes healed and it was Spring
I shook my curly locks and defied the wind
The sky is green I declared!
the world agreed
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