Sharp pain sliced like a red rose thorn,
prior to church on Sunday morn.
It felt as though insides were torn,
when she was born, when she was born.
No time to wait, she did not care,
she wailed real loud then gasped for air.
Her twin inside, they could not spare.
I named her Clair, I named her Clair.
The tears inside me never dried,
I felt despair, that one had died.
To give them life, I really tried,
but still I cried, but still I cried.
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Sixth Place Winner ~ "Monotetra" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
July 16, 2013