Unearthing the buried facts, from over a year, creates such a stench that your incense cannot clear-
Unable to find the most precious piece of the pain:her assured smile, cast in red, leaving lipstick imprints on the side of my face.
I'd glow with pride while my little fingers searched hurriedly for mirrors to see her bright mark
of
Approval.
You really should know that her laughter rolled like the
waves of the deep blue sea and she would rock me in her arms while she sang songs of the Old Far-East,
rocking me, her voice gliding on ocean beds,
rocking me,
her sweet sound waves,
rocking me,
back to the centre
of
Me.
