for mom and child <br />the harvested moon <br />was too soon to <br />see only me in the <br />sunshine of my eye <br />for too I could not say <br />it was my I <br />yet I knew <br />what you were feeling <br />because I too was new and the stores of stockpiled <br />nourishments flowed through <br />the spigot of ownership <br />arranged by my own time <br />this we felt could never <br />be mine even if I <br />had stayed in line<br /><br />joseph harlacher 111<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/papa-s-candle-stil-flickers/
