Timing

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By Mary Butler

Thirty years ago today
My mother died
Far too young
In the middle of a night.
You will be thirty
In two weeks’ time,
Son. Born, golden-haired
In the early hours.
So Far. So Near.

             
I write because I can’t play the violin and because running is transient. I have had short stories published and one book, Born to Die?, about the short life of our amazing second child.” – the writer

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