honey date pancakes
are the fruit of her morning rush.
are the fruit of her morning rush.
She dashes around
the room
instinctively; preparing
knapsacks for the
day ahead.
Dreams of a different life
have been dead for
many years,
lifeless as St. Valentine himself.
They leave--bags packed and bellies full.
Devotion to her family consumes her as
Devotion to her family consumes her as
she loves and is loved.
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