She says she is in the city
whose streets are valleys of honking,
between buildings of glass and steel,
to work there long hours.
How long has she been out? I can tell
by counting the stars popping out
in my sky and the number of buses
dropping off other kid's mom.
I wait for those hours to run out,
for the next bus to open its door.
I am sure my turn will come next,
to welcome my mom (again).
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