Mom with a book

…a strangled whisper… glitter dagger…
– “Mama, Build me a house of bricks!”
Mom excitedly hugged to the heart
small volume.

…Anger eyes lit up at the count:
“Here am I, princess, for goodness rock!”
– “Mama, and the sea is not drowning giraffe?”
mom soul – long away!

– “Mama, look: spider in the cutlet!”
The voice of the children's rebuke and a threat.
Mom woke from fiction: children –
bitter prose!

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Marina Tsvetaeva
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