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★★★★★ (3)
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1163810

She rocks herself, now that her mother is gone.

Never to Part

Baby mine: mother crooned.
Rocking back, forth camly.
Infant daughter slept sound.

In future fourteen years;
Baby mine: said mother,
Mother mine: said daughter.

Sadly destined to part;
But who would think so soon?
Daughter now rocks herself.

Baby mine, baby mine.
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