My Children
Love that is fragile as a butterfly,
that lands in your palm,
with a glittering of color,
and with trust that you will care.
Allowing them freedom
to spread wings in the air.
When they are desperate for warmth,
a heart staying open.
Closing a fist,
a soul will be broken.
Caring enough
to keep open hands.
Waiting and watching,
as love only can.
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