Child Ego

i push you
you pull me
we laugh
we lay on
the grass
we see clouds
our hands hold
fingers to fingers
more than flesh
and bones
we gaze
deep into our
eyes
we are more than
oceans
more than lips
and tips
it is getting dark
and mothers are
calling us home.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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