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Created on: November 20, 2008
The waters will still ebb and flow,
the moon still pull the tide,
but nothing could be more naturally so,
then the tears from a mother's eyes.
They start the day your child is born,
when first he's laid upon your breast.
In spite of pain from muscles worn,
heart strings tug your chest.
Tear drops fall from sleepy eyes
and trickle down your cheeks.
You listen as your child first cries
for your breast, which he seeks.
Time has passed; the pain is gone,
a bonding has taken place.
You look upon your little one,
the tears still on your face.
Just once more you look at him,
'fore you lay him down to sleep.
You reach out for a kiss on a whim,
knowing your heart is his to keep.
Learn more about this author, J. D. Stone.
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Poetry: On birth
(This is not a rhyming poem, but one of prose.)
SUMMER BIRTH
Restless, rolling, sweating, unsleeping,
I mentally try to push
by J. D. Stone
The waters will still ebb and flow,
the moon still pull the tide,
but nothing could be more naturally so,
then the tears from
From the cradle of innocent birth,
we embrace the touch of immaculate worth,
amidst sweeping streams of miracles,
Begins the passage of time,
Marking down the date,
We will mark the passage of time,
I have marked this fourty-seven times,
Living
by Mary Tyrer
"A New Life"
Sitting here lonely in a waiting room
Silence is all around, and all we can do is wait.
Listening for the cry
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