by Sherry Caayupan   Jan 5, 2016

So gently as a sigh,
she slept in her cocoon;
tiny marbles of eyes,
it was a solemn seclusion;
she saw not lit but dim,
yet she wrote in joyful colors;
i am her clown by her crib,
cradling her in my arms forlorn;
littling raindrops fall,
she plays a sonnet with her fingers;
the avid clock dare not stall,
her childly jubilation lingers;
a day is less worth than this moment,
i could only surpass time;
my offspring will never live in torment,
she will always be called mine...


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Latest Comments

  • 5 years ago

    by Cindy

    How beautiful. There is nothing like the love of a mother.
    Take care

  • 5 years ago

    by Dixiedaisy

    Such detailed imagery and very nice use of words. I will definitely check to see if you have more poems. I like your poetry style.