“More?”

My little one asks

Pure eyes glistening - in the dim light or in desperation,

I will never know.

“Of course,” I say, the words slip out,

Far too natural on my tongue.

“Of course,” again, as if

To steel resolve,

And so I slide my helping to the younger.

My older looks,

Lips pursed, brows knit,

Sweet worry on her sweeter face.

And you? I know she wants to say,

And you will eat your dinner?

But she hesitates (once again), yet

I do not,

Pushing the last of it to the other.

“Go on,” I breathe, and

Her head may shake, but

Her stomach betrays her with vigor.

“More?”

“More?”

I give to give, and

Give to see

My two grow in life and love

As they always should.

And yet, a creeping

Premonition rises, as does the stinging

In my eyes.

‘‘And you?’ I know she wants to say,

‘And you will eat your dinner?’

But she hesitates (once again), yet

I do not, Pushing the last of it to the other.

Go on,” I breathe, and

Her head may shake, but

Her stomach betrays her with vigor.

“More?”

“More?”

I give to give, and

Give to see

My two grow in life and love

As they always should.

And yet, a creeping

Premonition rises, as does the stinging

In my eyes.

For what do they do,

And what do I,

When I am all cried out?

When endless tears subside, and

I am dry and barren.

With none to give, when requests continue,

Needing more, and more, and more,

I can only hope,

And only pray, that

My love will outweigh my nature.