deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Make-Believe Memories.
If I stumbled on a wishing weed,
I'd have only one request.
Would someone give me back my Della?
Stop this quaking in my chest?
I'd kill to hear her breathing,
murder just to kiss her hair.
I want my little girl,
I'd wish for her, I'd dare.
Her tiny little fists in mine,
her eyes new to the world.
To listen to those tiny cries,
the promise of my little girl.
I'd even wish with sacrifice,
I'd let her see her Father.
She'd have his dark brown eyes,
all he gave, all he bothered.
Just to hold her to my chest,
and lull her with the beat.
The pounding of my heart on hers,
just to hold her as she sleeps.
I'd have only one request.
Would someone give me back my Della?
Stop this quaking in my chest?
I'd kill to hear her breathing,
murder just to kiss her hair.
I want my little girl,
I'd wish for her, I'd dare.
Her tiny little fists in mine,
her eyes new to the world.
To listen to those tiny cries,
the promise of my little girl.
I'd even wish with sacrifice,
I'd let her see her Father.
She'd have his dark brown eyes,
all he gave, all he bothered.
Just to hold her to my chest,
and lull her with the beat.
The pounding of my heart on hers,
just to hold her as she sleeps.
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