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A Mother's Happy Cries
You daughter stirs as I enter you.
Chirping her imagined story
for an audience of dolls in the next room.
Her sweet voice fills our ears as the
same sunlight waking her
paints your breasts with a glow.
I see pride in your eyes as we find our rhythm,
remembering what you have made.
I relax into your warm center and imagine her birth.
“You are beautiful,” I whisper, and you smile.
My head spins with the mix of a baby’s voice
accompanied by her mother’s happy cries.
Chirping her imagined story
for an audience of dolls in the next room.
Her sweet voice fills our ears as the
same sunlight waking her
paints your breasts with a glow.
I see pride in your eyes as we find our rhythm,
remembering what you have made.
I relax into your warm center and imagine her birth.
“You are beautiful,” I whisper, and you smile.
My head spins with the mix of a baby’s voice
accompanied by her mother’s happy cries.
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