Mrs. Glass-Smith and her Daughters:

Woman of twenty-three

lost her pregnancy glow,

As her water broke,

With three more months to go.

Mrs. Glass-Smith, gave birth

to a beautiful girl

With milk glass skin

Rushed into a transparent incubator

Like a egg incubator,

Awaits chicks to hatch

For days, nurses tried to make the infant latch

In hopes,

she exhales all her fears-

Blaming herself, “ I am not a good mommy”

Breathe life,

into my child’s lungs, like a steel punty

she whispers

The infant eyes flutter open,

Glancing,

into Mrs. Glass-Smiths’ deep green depression era glass eyes.

When she brought the child home,

the fragile, girl,

was placed on the highest shelf.

As her infant grew into a toddler

Her sense of humor,

bubbly like carnival glass

Always, sticky-

and sweet like cotton candy

Few years later,

Ms. Glass-Smith gave birth,

to another beautiful girl

With skin frothy like a root beer float

The infant eyes flutter open

Glancing,

into Mrs. Glass-Smiths’ deep green depression era glass eyes

Her eyes mesmerizing,

like a deep amber glass bottle

With a toddler, and a infant

Mrs. Glass-Smith was on full throttle

The Milk glass and Amber glass bottle skinned daughters grew;

Mrs. Glass-Smiths’s personal

double scoop of ice cream flavors

Strawberry and Chocolate Chip Cookie dough

They love,

to comb the beach together

Singing sha- la-la-te-da