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RMatheson
Poems
Jan 8
My Child
Cradle, my love, in my arms
and hear the wind whisper your name.
Open your heart,
the world is cold enough already.
The storms that have
spread their grey fingers across you are such a burden.
Listen to my nursery rhyme
that drips from my lips,
and as you feel the
heavy comfort of my hand
on your head,
sleep.
Written by
RMatheson
Beating tired bones
(Beating tired bones)
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