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Dec 2018
I sat, gripped
as my tears fought to tear free
from her vice-like stare
and her mother-strong hold,
each knuckle white with intent
and scabbed with rage.

I tried to prise her grip away
scared by the strength of her frail frame
but she bore down all the same
and her nails inscribed one indelible plea
for me
to stay.
Mum's still fighting.
Steve Page
Written by
Steve Page  62/M/London, U.K.
(62/M/London, U.K.)   
838
   JL Smith
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