And slowly slide from the bed...
Oh no, she's not, she raises
Her curly-tangled head.
When her arms go round my neck,
A tiny voice whispers in my ear,
"Deepamma, don't go away!"
I want to spend forever here....
Children are the sweet tendrils
That wind themelves around your heart.
It wrenches me, each time I have
To tear myself apart.