The circle circles roundabout
and finds a way to, neatly, close
without a pause or any doubt.
You’re smiling Mother, I suppose,
for now it’s mine to hold the hand
to soothe the ego, slightly bruised,
to wipe away the tear drops and
repeat the phrases often used…
“My little one, ignore the pain--
tomorrow brings another dawn.
No rose can grow without the rain.
Until the fear and pain are gone
I’ll hold you thus, encircle you
as circles must--- as father's do."
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