Sitting serene, the lounge of mother’s arm –Knowing, now, nothing of another place –A love irreplaceable as his charm. Basked in attention, withstanding her smarmBy staying ever close to sleep’s embrace:Sitting serene, the lounge of mother’s arm. Each new concern will his presence disarm.Looking upon him, every threat we outpace;A love irreplaceable as his charm.Continue reading “His Place”