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 a young and enthusiastic writer, fresh out of highschool and into college at IUSB. I babysit and work and live life to it's fullest. I write. I read. I do yoga. And plan to become. Yoga intructers as well. I grew up on a farm and can't,t wait to move back to the country in my tiny house I have already planned out. Sometimes I'm a little melodramatic but rarely. I'm a spiritual healer, a hopeless romantic, a book worm, and very nostalgic. Thanks for stopping by.

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