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Pink Feathers

To Be A Mom

I've been through dolls and matchbox cars-

a precious girl, a sporting boy,

and sleepovers a thousand times;

I called it stress - they jumped for joy.

At first a bike and then a car;

for each I wore my worry cap-

the wondering and letting go...

if only I'd have had a map.

Her marriage here, his marriage there-

a budding teen, one on the way.

It's funny how the world goes 'round-

how memories are made each day.

It's all awash, but yet it's not,

for now we have a frisky pom

reminding me of little ones

and what it's like to be a Mom.

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