This Heart is soft, oh can’t you see
Just four and two; small years to be.
Take all the tens away and leave…
what’s left is tendered, childhood need.
It matters not now what I know;
this child, myself, lives deep below.
I feel her wander, called to test.
Is it safe to live, is it safe to rest?
In the night, she lies awake,
afraid to dream, lest nightmare quake.
Even though I hold her so
with love and mercy’s promise in tow,
her Heart still beats with trepid flow,
This child of mine, the one I know.
©2012 Linda Willows
Photograph by Paula Loonen