Where Is My Pen?

Must. Write. This. Down.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

The Work

If only I could see the head:

Its black soft hairs: the first glimpse of life.

I push some more.

Slow delivery: Needing that deep sigh of finished.

Then rocking you under the sunset, eyelids flickering

and seeing the miracle flash in those tiny eyes: a balm for my lonely toil.


Posted by Hilary Covil at 4:16 AM No comments:
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