Young Love

I just love your arms, Mama
She stares at me unabashedly,
unflinchingly, unceremoniously.
They hold me, they help me,
they cover me, they snuggle me.

I hold her gaze this time,
letting her young daughter love drench
this parched and weary mama heart.
Someday the ambivalence will come
between us too, my baby girl.

But these strong smooth arms
are for you and for them,
no matter how young or how old,
my daughters, my beams
of light moving forth.

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