The first time she picked me up I was
a fraction. Less than a tenth, surely.
Swaddled, capped, or maybe still
covered in blood and shit and god
knows what. Not one tooth to my
new name. Yes, there was a first time
she held me. Who could forget it?
But there was also
a last time
she set
me
down.
1 comment:
This one gets the thumbs up. Really full of meaning. I like the structure of it at the end. Thanks!
No, I'm not a robot.
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