by Kara Wansbury
She picks the sprinkles off her cupcake one by one
She wears Barbie bandaids
She cuddles her worn, well-loved bunny rabbit
Her hair is disheveled from a morning at the park
Her shirt wears this mornings babycino
Her giggle warms her mothers heart
And gives her a reason to get up in the morning
She isn't my daughter
I am not her mother
about this poem.
I went for my usual morning coffee and noticed a mother and daughter together. She was about four. I thought of all the things I won't get to do with Marin. I came home and wrote this. And cried. -Kara
about the poet.
I am 30 years old, single and I live in Sydney, Australia. I am in the Navy and I work in public relations. I have been granted the good fortune of considerable time off work and I will use this time wisely to study and explore my grief in whatever creative outlet I pursue. I am not alone in this journey: I have Marin with me every step of the way. - Kara