Reflections of a Mother
Beneath my skin, his cells are parting, every
day more of him lives;
Inside his skull, his mind is forming, the
power of will soon to be his;
Time has flown, his journey's ended,
and now a new one has begun;
Amidst my cries of pain and tears of joy,
I can see my newborn son;
Holding him close, the greatest pleasure
His fingers curling, eyes gazing
transfixed on mine:
Could this be the same small treasure who's
spent these months close to my spine?
The same one still who gives me pleasure, just
watching yawns and drying tears
In my heart, No one can measure the love I'll
have all through his years.
How can a woman, such as me, feel so much
differently about the life inside her womb,
that she would make "choice" it's tomb?
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Passing The Torch
Shining Cloud of Joy
Missing it All
They
Sang Me To Sleep
Dark Dreams and Loving Hands
