My Children  
1.17.15

“Music cuts through
The dead of night
Great minds
Gleeful voices that bind
Echoing through
Forever thankful a mother is
Of the brilliance
That cuddles her.

The voices
Carry her
Through time
And the night.
The longing is the wind
Beneath her wings.

She whispers, plants a kiss
On her children’s sleepy heads
To touch their lives
To give her warmth.

She’s grateful for the life
That makes and gives
To touch.

Time.”