The cup has been poured,
sand once molten then frozen,
it cannot perceive the gravity
of the possibility of what it once held.
I wish I could know as little.
Witness my downcast eyes.
This jumper I wear,
now containing me,
once it held you.
You were cold and I was too,
but who cared about me?
I took it off and made you wear it.
That was how it was meant to be.
She lies asleep in our bed,
snuggled up to her, our youngest child,
both of them so soft in nature, so kind.
She is strong, though, and he is too.
I wonder what would happen if they woke to find me gone?
My roots own this place, my roots bind it.