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I watched my daughter play

as she thoughtfully envisioned,

how the paper in her hand

would become

the masterpiece in her mind —


Carefully she traced

every line and curve.

With furrowed brows,

she shaped rows upon rows;

lovingly creating the art

of  bright red paper hearts —


We were like her then.

Full of plans and

crafting dreams.

So sure of ourselves,

living on hope and love,

like a pair of turtle doves.


I remembered,

how we stayed up late

lost in each other,

bodies and mind

intertwined together.

I remembered,

how you gazed at me and said,

that every mistake I did

was adorably cute and silly.

I remembered,

how life seemed

full of possibilities,

and we believed

that everything

will turn out perfect,

and every wound

can be healed by a kiss.


But time flies ….

The heart forgets.

Promises are replaced by lies.

The heart whispers its bitter goodbye,

and love tragically dies.


A tug on my shoulder

brought me out of my revelry.

My daughter held out

a sundered art,

a bleeding paper heart  —

She asked me to find a way,

to mend what has gone astray,

and I struggled for something to say….


I remembered,

how I saw you with her.

How I felt

my world crumble

with the pain I could not bear.

I remembered,

how she laughed

as you gazed into her eyes,

before saying, that she is

adorably cute and silly ….

Then  my heart bled

at the sight of a kiss.


“Mommy, are you listening?”

I turned to my daughter,

roused from memories.

Slowly and sadly I told her,

“No sweetheart,

I am sorry …

but when paper hearts

are broken ….

They are forevermore

forsaken ….”