Mothers aren’t mothers right away,
Of course. They need some time to undergo
The long and well-wrought windings of the way,
However steep, that choice and fate bestow.
Even with the passion to endure,
Reminded of sweet memories to come,
‘Tis time’s brutal way to be unsure,
Severing the addends from the sum.
Do, then, make your way into the void
Afoot with expectation unalloyed,
Yearning yet to be what you’ve become.

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