The plump cobalt blackberries cradled in his soft hands
mirroring the pillow-like clouds above.
It is a long day.
The mother's leathery, wrinkled fingers bobbed the sewing needle
up and down along the rough edged seams of his clothes
How could he wonder that some day her
soothing voice would comfort him in times of peril
But for now he is only a lad
So innocent, so carefree, so loving.
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