At the bottom of my stomach, not my heart, is where I warm at the sight of you.
You whom I held as babies—who won’t, don’t remember me, let alone know me; for I am an apparition who sends you mail every now and then.
But those photos, the ones your mothers fill my feed with, they melt me, warm me, make me woozy.
I never knew I’d love like this – so fiercely
I never knew I’d want to teach you, hug you, protect you, love you, know you
Yet each year passes and all I know is you are growing quickly, without me in your feed.
The distance across these plains swirl in my stomach everytime I see a photo of your sweet faces…in my feed.
