Impending separation

I put her to sleep…I think she’s off
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.

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