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The Little Cycle MAG
When my smooth hand covers your twisted bones,
I remember when I was the little girl.
It was I then, who perched on the stairs to stretch
As tall as you,
But now it is I who stoops to embrace your crooked frame.
It was you then, who brought me orange juice and
But now it is I who brings you a glass of milk.
It was you then who stood by your cutting board and
Taught me how to make meatballs,
But now it is I who makes the salad and
It is you who sits and blankly stares.
It was you then who watched cartoons for me,
But now it is I who watches Jeopardy for you.
It was I then who was the little girl,
But now it is you.