Our kids
Remind us of the things we did
And didn't do.
We love them more than we love
Ourselves
And would never wish the hell
On them that we went through.
But we understand that we
Also err,
And their children will have to come
To bring repair,
And so we waltz loosely
Into time,
One step up with Bach,
Two back with Sondheim.
Thus we allow the new to come
Cut in,
And dance us around the floor
Anew,
Again.
-Jenn
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