Posted in Poems, Uncategorized

infant(12.22.16)

Tiny toes that curl into the carpet;

I count the wrinkles,

each indent, each rivet.

Time could not erase them from my memory.

The little lips smile

and a gurgly giggle emerges from in between them.

This is love, I know,

I think to myself as the infant rolls over.

-Eva M.M.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

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Author:

I am the author of 1withthepen.wordpress.com and am currently working on a book of poems. To find out more check out my about me page as well as my page about my blog and welcome to the ink angels community.

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