Mother

A rush, a push, a sudden scream
I entered here, red-cheeked, big-boned,
A harsh joy inside your waiting arms.
And on we passed, through certain unknown towns,
Where words so strange are spoken,
Stangers’ tongues are lead,
And hand in hand we walked cross red world roads,
And played in swings.
These were bird-chirp years, when suckling
And tiny hands was all there ever was;
Love, unrusted by life’s deep.