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  • Writer's pictureSharon Frances


Updated: Apr 10, 2023

When did I get old, when was I young?

When did I need to hear your voice,

Feel your breath as you whisper in my ear?

Was it when we were on the corner of the ceiling, trying to escape?

When we were nauseous in the chemo chair

When they said we didn't matter

And we begged them to love us anyway

When was our skin soft and strong, when was it thin and weak

Do I have advice for you? Do you have advice for me?

I want to connect with you

Hold you close

I want to tell you I am sorry

That life hurts, that life shouldn't be that way

That you deserve love not shame

That you deserve joy not guilt

But I can barely believe it myself, all old and grown.

I teeter on the edge of sadness

Every. Day.

I know you did too

Is it our fate to live in trauma

In tears and despair?

But then... the beat pulses from your radio

and birds flap their wings

we dance and sing

and write and speak

Do you remember those times too?

I do.

Come here, I whisper.

Hold my hand. Lean against me.

Feel this breath we share.

I know... Lets stomp our feet

run through the mustard flower

stretch our arms like tree limbs into the puffy sky.

Without wondering if any advice I give

Will heal you. Or me.

Let's be here




Do you feel it

I will hold your hand.

Lean against me.

I love you

Little one



These words and images are the property of the poet, Sharon Frances.

Do not use in part or whole without permission.

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