The hovering mother is never quite out of sight.
She hovers morning, midday, noon, and night
Darting from tree to tree, she’d fervently hide,
Or at the back of a bus, when they took a ride.
Looking for ways, to keep out of view,
Believing she’s diligent, but has nothing better to do,
Her children sigh, whenever she comes near,
For the...
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