As the heaviness of the early morning dew dripped off
the rose petals, so does the love of my baby from her eyes.
Reaching down, I wipe the tears away gently, as our eyes meet, reflection of my past looks back at me. To remember the past is hard when one dies.
Much warmth is flowing through my heart,
pictures of happiness cross my eyes’ sight.
So is this what reborn means? How many times
will I go through this until I get it right?
Out of all the life I have lived, I have a son,
twelve, not sure, hard to think.
For my mother of this miracle child, she is named Mary;
for her name I give her a last wink.
Letting me keep the memories will not be, up to
the mother, part of my endless soul he will have.
Others there will be, second chances they are being given.
When it is their time, clouds will hold their path.
Voices now I hear in my little ears, my son
seems to be on the right path, my wings await me.
Every movie, book, has a story to tell, I don’t know
who my father is, I write my version of who he was for all to see.
inspired by Benjamin Button
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