I look down at my middle,
now softer than ever,
At the dimples of skin,
that will be there forever.
I can’t help but wonder,
if the walls of my womb,
tell you the story of
who once shared that room.
Do they reveal what’s to come,
in a countdown of weeks?
Of how one day the light,
will shine on those cheeks?
I imagine there’s words.
Promises, pledges.
Blurred from old footprints
which graffiti the edges.
Do the waves whisper calmly,
words of foretelling
through unique pools of water
in the same lovely dwelling?
Is there a rainbow-like glow,
of the one that came first?
The baby I treasured,
but never got to nurse?
Echoes of those
who passed through before.
There’s even a scar
where we once made a door.
And another, before your sister was free
which tethered her round little belly to me.
So much love
in this warmth that you play,
I would not be surprised,
if you wanted to stay.
But when you are ready,
we will be too.
You already know who’s
waiting for you.
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