Your wellington boots stomp me to the root,
your daughter’s eager palms squish my neck and bounce me happily,
as you squat down with a newborn; pale-faced bundled in your arms,
his milky breath sweet as the scent of spring
Vibrant laughter echoes through my petals,
if I could speak I wouldn’t have to
I hear a click and there we are,
captured by your husband’s eye.
Stilled forever;
frozen in time.

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