MomsBook_asof9.18.17
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These frozen days<br />
you offer me<br />
are like the bread<br />
I scatter<br />
for the birds.<br />
They taste of ash<br />
upon my tongue<br />
but oh!<br />
I must believe<br />
that warmth<br />
will come.<br />
You are the root<br />
that holds me safely<br />
in this rock.<br />
You are the crack<br />
no mortal eye can see<br />
to which I cling<br />
tenaciously.
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