A bitter taste, a second son,
An obligation toward love undone,
Was my taste a bitter one?
When my first cries touched his ear,
Were they cries of love or fear?
Were they received with gentle hum?
Or met in kind as torrid bedlam?
When my soft skin did touch his hand,
So coarse, so cold, so strong, so tanned,
For just a moment, did his heart melt?
I suffer to grasp how that touch was felt.
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