Loving. Healing. Touching.
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A flash of lightening streaks across the sky.
We huddle close beneath the trembling eaves
As thunder roars a nightmare lullaby,
And strips the trees outside of summer leaves.
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in Son Poems
Where did you come from, little one?
I see you every day and I
Still can't believe this is my SON
With golden hair and storm gray eyes.
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