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Poetry

The December Poems: Thirteen

Lucky, when you slip-slid into the
world, tiny and mine, my heart
exploded, bits and pieces of which
would never fit back in the same way.
Lucky, this motherly heart attack,
this change of heart, this sudden
surge of realization of what matters;
it was always you. Lucky, your
birth, your presence, your very
existence; you matter so much.
Lucky, that thirteenth of December;
the day of your birth, and maybe
also my own. Lucky.

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