Bloom

Reflecting on new beginnings with a poem from my days of new-motherhood:

Bloom

Love made manifest,
wrapped in a crimson
towel on the bed, cheeks
pinked like freshly scrubbed
apples. Rosy golden,
with a bloom
on the pristine skin.

My life new, too,
in this moment,
as though the morning
dawned at 5 in the afternoon.

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3 thoughts on “Bloom

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