By: Ardis E. Parshall - July 10, 2014 Vision By Edith Cherrington He has grown tall, that baby boy of mine.Those hands that one time robbed the cookie jarAre groping now for something clean and fine.The eyes that danced with mischief gaze afarAt argosies from some blue-misted east,Where vague, uncharted dreams have formed a barThat make of me a specter at the feast. Trying to be so wise … so mother-wiseI strive in futile ways to draw h...
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