Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=571202" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Saturday Mournings</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Saturday <br>Mournings</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Those Saturday mornings<br>I pushed my bed<br>Away from the wall<br>Hoping my sister would not hear<br>Hoping my foster<br>Momma <br>Would not hear</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hoping the old wood would <br>Not squeak or crackle<br>Too loud<br>And tell of my desire<br>Tell of my weakness<br>Tell of a<br>Little Girl’s dream<br>To see her <br>Mother<br>Tell of a Black Girl’s longing<br>for White arms to be<br>Intertwined with <br>Black ones<br>Tell of brown eyes’<br>Need to see hazel Irish ones<br>Tell of the truth<br>Of how I could </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love You Mother</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still Need You Mother</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even after<br>The Give-away<br>The living away<br>The way irony played<br>In your manic rage<br>On a Berkeley Street<br>The day you said you needed<br>To find her<br>She, Not me<br>Offering in my palm my whole <br>Black heart</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But SHE, the daughter you never saw<br>But needed, no less...<br>The words still echo in my head<br>Replay each day<br>Who? <br>Wants this Little<br>Girl? <br>Drunken Toes<br>Tap, Tap, Tapping<br>Desperado’s cadence<br>on Run over thongs<br>Who? <br>Who? <br>Who want’s this Little<br>Girl? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wrist burns<br>Under drunken grip</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“The trick, ” my sister said<br>“Is to stand the pain”<br>Twisting my wrist skin<br>In a game of<br>Indian Chief<br>“When you can’t stand no more, you lose! <br>So you gotta howl like<br>an Indian... Cuuuuzzz You Lost! ”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Child games<br>Flashing in my mind<br>But there is no time <br>To be a child again<br>And anymore<br>But maybe not forever....<br>And there is no howl<br>Escaping my lips<br>Only the train’s<br>Screamiiiing for me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I want to be <br>on that caboose and go aaaaawayyyy<br>A lone Panthress<br>Like the poster picture<br>fuzzy beneath my finger<br>on the basement wall<br>at foster home<br>Opens Black bosom to me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I’ll take her... I’ll take your Little Girl”<br>No howl escapes<br>My lips<br>The fire of<br>Your red hair burns my eyes<br>As you slip into a sea<br>Of people and traffic<br>and your<br>Battle dress jacket<br>Slips into loud<br>Stares of onlookers </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The train howls our pain<br>Saturday mornings<br>I loved <br>The loving<br>To see you<br>Mother</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cried dry tears<br>When you did not show<br>Pushed my bed<br> Back to the window....</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My sister and I played <br>Indian Chief</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till Pain was<br>Only <br>A Game...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I could be a child again</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>by Jessica Holter</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jessica+Holter">Jessica Holter</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=571202" data-title="Saturday Mournings de Jessica Holter" data-description="Saturday 
Mournings

Those Saturday mornings
I pushed my bed
Away from the wall
Hoping my sister would not hear
Hoping my foster
Momma 
Would not hear

Hoping the old wood would 
Not squeak or crackle
Too loud
And tell of my desire
Tell of my weak..."></div>
</div>
</div>