Envious to myself to be called out as your
baby, despite how much she nurses me-
all the night she prays for my blessings; while
during my day I act out as one not considering
how blessed I am to have her… her clothing prepared
to robe me with the covering of much respect

Her sacrifices are unsung; reaping all for me to sow
—and by the bruises on her heart, it has to show
as young as she was, she reflected a mother's love
put all together in our pretend house

we were unashamed under a tree’s fruit to ripen-
perhaps I missed how to her, this was our very first
date- but please forgive me, for not seeing how my
childhood friend didn’t take our childish love
games as just another game
                     I thought it was just a game of house