I carved its form into a heart
from gathered crust of snow
And to my daughter I impart
this image she shall know
A sapling planted long ago
embraces the delicate yolk
in branches that did grow
But when it fell from this oak
she said, “My heart broke”
this innocence transformed
to concern that did invoke
the need to take it, I reformed
it with precision, smaller but the same
to keep with the promise of my name
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