If I were a mother for a day, I would smell every scent as if it were the last and see a rainbow in every shade of gray. If I were a mother for a day, I would make myself a bouquet of roots (not flowers). If I were a mother for a day, I would sit on the bench where I tend my terrace of birds of paradise and sunflowers. I would lie on my stomach and weep over the smoke plumes of wars, and nothing would matter to me more than the passing of eons. …
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If I were a mother for a day, I would smell every scent as if it were the last and see a rainbow in every shade of gray. If I were a mother for a day, I would make myself a bouquet of roots (not flowers). If I were a mother for a day, I would sit on the bench where I tend my terrace of birds of paradise and sunflowers. I would lie on my stomach and weep over the smoke plumes of wars, and nothing would matter to me more than the passing of eons. …