In the small dark hours, our house is quiet -- the noise of the day, of your brothers, of our life has fallen away into slumber. You lie here, tucked between us in our bed, the bed where you were born.
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In the small dark hours, our house is quiet -- the noise of the day, of your brothers, of our life has fallen away into slumber. You lie here, tucked between us in our bed, the bed where you were born.
Read More