When people inquire I always just state: </br> "I have four nice children and hope to have eight." - Aline Murray Kilmer

I sing of little loves that glow </br> Like tapers shining through the rain. </br> Of little loves that break themselves </br> Like moths against the window-pane.

Deborah danced, when she was two, </br> As buttercups and daffodils do; </br> Spirited, frail, naïvely bold, </br> Her hair a ruffled crest of gold.

For life seems only a shuddering breath, </br> A smothered, desperate cry, </br> And things have a terrible permanence </br> When people die.