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Whispers...

Don't wake her,

Let her rest.


Whispers....

Don't tell her,

She's not ready.


Whispers awakened her

From a drug induced 

Slumber.


She listens 

For a voice

So familiar

It could have been her own.


A voice 

Cooing at a child,

Smiling in it's vibrations

Making promises

It will keep,

Making promises 

It can never keep.


This voice was not there

Among the whispers,

And yet she yearned

To hear this voice.


The slumber was thick

And yet she swam

To the surface

Using all she could summon

To break the surface 

To break the slumber.


As her eyelids fluttered

A strong hand 

Grasped her hand,

Pulling her through

To the real world.


He sat at her bedside,

A face as familiar

As her own.

And with her eyes

She asked the question

He was afraid to answer.


"She was beautiful."


It was the word 

Was

That plunged her back

Into the abyss of dreams

And unrealized wishes,

Leaving her there 

For a day,

Or was it two.


When she woke,

Those words roused her.


When she slept,

Those words were her lullaby.


No child

Rested in her arms,

Once nestled in her womb.


No child 

Suckled at her bosom,

Now heavy with sustenance.


No child 

To cry out

For her mother.


Time waits for no one,

And days pass,

Then weeks and months

And soon a year 

Had come and gone.


Soon another child

Filled her womb

And this child was born,

And then another,

And then another.


Three children

Had rested in her arms,

Suckled at her bosom

And cried out to her,

Their mother.


And when asked

About the fourth

She would say,

"She was beautiful."

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