It is warm here, but what here is, I do not know. Here is soft and safe I think. A short while ago, it is hard to say, suddenly I knew that I was here, and that I am me. I can hear, or feel perhaps, a sound. Thump, thump, thump, and it is always there. I think it is telling me that I am not alone. What is this place that holds me close, but as I ask, the answer seems already to be there. I am with mother, and mother is with me, and this is how I came to be.
© by Phil Harris
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