My sweetlings.
Commas wrapped in crochet shawls.
Cradled, they knew not what lay ahead
in this desperate world,
only the soft strokes and gentle voices
Of love.
Rosy cheeked
they fell into the rhythms of childhood,
with it’s classroom wars
and playground battles.
They learned to navigate their own steep road
And won.
Their prize?
Independence and freedom
from the happy home.
That cosy ancestral cave
Whose walls housed secrets, and memories,
And me
How they grew,
my little sweetlings.
Confident, funny and smart,
they are brilliance in these dark days,
shining their light on every distant path
they take.
Rebooting 
Seems like something’s missing. “They take…..”?
…’every distant path they take’ Perhaps I should change it to ‘tread’. I was trying to suggest that they are off wandering the world whilst I’m still in ‘the ancestral cave’!! Thanks for pointing it out. x
aahh,.. I see now… it’s the punctuation gone adrift! I’ve amended, so hope it reads better xx
I think it was the capital letter at the beginning of that line that threw me off. I like this version very much!
Thank you!