Somewhere only I know,

Beyond the pages of a bedtime story,
Your early breakfast,
Our wedding rings.

My girth is widened
By years and motherhood
Years of motherhood.
I run my roughened palms
On my stomach, and upwards
The nerves of my neck
Holding up worlds
I never imagined
As a child.

I drifted
Along the coast
To here,
Where I wake up each day
To the hum of your patience
Steadfast, this rope
Holding me over places lived
And to the promises
We said we would
Keep close.

But cast far out
Are the rest of them
Father, mother, sister-
Place a finger on the spinning globe
That I cannot catch
And in our living rooms
There are oceans between us
That my bridge cannot reach
And it is not merely
Beyond grasp.

The sands slip through
My hands can only
Hold so many
I dream-ache, shake
Off a thought
As my head weighs down
Lie low, hushed still
For the next daybreak.

Poem by Charmaine Poh

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