The Unborn

by
 Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
Like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.
Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing In some antechamber - servants, half- Listening for the bell.
Sometimes I see them lying like love letters In the Dead Letter Office And sometimes, like tonight, by some black Second sight I can feel just one of them Standing on the edge of a cliff by the sea In the dark, stretching its arms out Desperately to me.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - The UnbornEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...



Top Sharon Olds Poems

Analysis and Comments on The Unborn

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Unborn here.