Kicking of the unborn

She can’t walk
Her swollen feet sweating beneath socks,
She can’t walk
Turning she looks at the wall lined with clocks.

Three months left.

She can’t eat
Turning down each fork stabbed with bounties,
She can’t eat
No matter what hunters bring from each, and every county.

One month left.

She can’t sleep
Her belly jiggling and wriggling with each turn,
She can’t sleep
Her cold arms ready to craddle,  she yearns.

One day left.

She can’t wait
Every moment ticks by with a rumbling cheer,
She can’t wait
She is ready to call her new babe, “dear”.

 

Expect

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