A 27th Birthday Poem

belly born.

science slicing

windows into

nature’s womb,

a kind of miracle.


hours clocked –

long days,

longer nights.

by design

i cannot,

for the life of me,

remember the work

it took to raise me.


only when i look

at my daughter,

tucked into

her own bed,

do I know

how my mother

must have felt,

tucking me

into mine.

Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.