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Bittersweet

Bittersweet

Through the doorway, I see her
Sitting, rocking, smiling
Hello dear she mutters
Her voice so soft… warm
I sit beside her and take her hand
She happily tells me about her day
She looks so frail and so cold
I drape her shawl around her shoulders
Her smile grows and she pats my hand
She tells me her favorite colors
She shows me her knitting
My heart grows heavy as she speaks
For the things she does not tell me
I must go and she kisses my cheek
She tells me that I am a nice young man
She asks…Who are you?
My heart breaks all over again
I tell her that I am just a friend
As my mother smiles and rocks

~Arnold Bailey

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