just something i wrote

Everyday I visited a body.
I visited death-in the milk chocolate room with Greco-Roman art.
On the chocolate bed lay my 50 year old child.

A whimper she was there to hold me
A cry I was there to hold her.
She fed me oat-mum mum and squishy fish
I fed her a table spoon of milk with one blueberry.
She changed me, potty trained me
I carried her to to the bathroom.
I was afraid of the dark so she held my hand and caressed my forehead
She was afraid of death so I did the same.
She was there in the beginning
I was there in her end.
She cried because she couldn't believe I was born
I cry because I can't believe she's gone.