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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2315634
A poem of self-reflection
In the quiet corners of my mind, I say,
"I don't want kids," as if to sway
Away from the truth, I must confess,
For deep down, I harbor a gentle caress.

Kids, oh kids, how I adore,
Though I claim I couldn't handle more
Than just a day, the truth, it gleams,
I dream of little ones in my schemes.

Scout days linger, memories sweet,
With cubs around, my heart would beat
In joyous rhythm, as I'd care and teach,
Their laughter echoing, within my reach.

They call me "mom friend," and I see
The truth in jest, it's part of me.
My own dear mother once did say,
"No grandkids from you? You sure?" in a gentle way.

I chuckled then, but deep inside,
The longing stirred, I couldn't hide.
To bring forth life, my heart does ache,
A bond with offspring, for heaven's sake.

I've spoken to Liz, and in her eyes,
I see a glimmer, a shared surprise.
If only I could carry her child, it's true,
A blend of us, a love anew.

To nurture, to cherish, to hold so tight,
The dream persists both day and night.
Yet reality strikes, a bitter blow,
The parts I lack, they haunt me so.

But if I had one wish, a magic spell,
I'd choose to embrace that wish so well.
Perhaps one day, my arms will find
A child to love, so pure, so kind.

So here I stand, with hope in hand,
A longing heart in a shifting sand.
For motherhood, a dream so dear,
I'll hold it close, without any fear.
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