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You will not remember these days.

When you are old enough
to talk about things,
it wouldn’t be about
these little aches
these little fears
these little moments of delight
that once had been
all that mattered
when your world was small
and everything was new,
and curious and overwhelming

and I was your keeper
and protector
and I moved to your movement,
answered your every cry,
drank up your laughter and
breathed the peace of your sleep…

You would not remember me,
not this way:
your five senses are raw
and the words haven’t come yet
but someday I would be to you
the things you heard me say
the things I made you do
and your heart will be steered
by you,
and you would respond
by what you understand
when understanding comes,

by these moments
when you are helpless and
merely waiting for the world
to fall into place.
Your little smiles and tears,
the little struggles of
your little limbs,
when it’s time to remember,
will all be but one
blur of a dream.

But I have been awake,
even through the nights,
and will remember.
I will remember enough for both of us.

Untitled photo by photographer Vanessaclass


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