38 Weeks

-
Body aching,
Muscles breaking,
Every movement 
A creak or a lurch.
Sitting is hard 
And walking is harder.
Sleep is scanty,
Weight is mighty,
Time is lessening
And patience failing.
How many days 
Till meeting, my love?

 Ever the hours
Move slowly and thickly.
Every tightening 
Premonition of birth
Blood is still flowing
To little feet still kicking.
Treasure these moments
Of inexorable length!
Weary and expectant,
Waiting and hoping --
How many days
Till meeting, my love?


Comments

GretchenJoanna said…
That is a great poem - though your hours are moving "slowly and thickly," your mind is not! I am impressed, having always heard that pregnancy reduces the mother's brain power. :-)
November 27, 2016 at 10:48 PM
M. T. said…
Thank you for the compliment! :)
December 29, 2016 at 2:42 PM
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