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Poem

She felt old and tired,
Womb heavy with child.
Around, the stately cypress trees
Stood guard, protecting the dead,
And one especially
That lay peacefully in its tomb.
Wind softly soughed
And moaned like muted sirens
That she recollected seeing
In an old magical tome.
Yet no magic could bring back
The lover that had died 
Just a few weeks ago.

The embryo moved slightly in its place
As if it knew who rested in the tomb,
And she wondered if the father
Had also moved in his earthly womb.
No tears fell.  She left a rose,
Dark violet and perfumed
On the cold marble slab,
Turned and wended her way home
To take care of the one 
That would soon be born.

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