The tears said it all
All she ever may need to say
We sit and pray for her mother to somehow, anyhow, recover
I do smother her right then with all of my love
No such fickle procedure occurs – naieve and utterly basphemous gloves to one side
No sinner here
Bare skin, the way of our world this minute
In it wholeheartedly to steal her angel with tethered wings right back
Then she so much as stares right into my Irish eyes
Prises everything on out