A Cry of Regret

Now I wish ...that the chuckles of a child had graced my home... ...that the feet of a tot had drummed my floor... ...that the laughter of an innocent had filled my air... Now as I wither away I remember the house I toiled to build And tilled to make a home... But my barren body Made not my sensible house The home of any tot... Now I wish... ...that I was pregnant in the morning and it miscarries at night... For this is not my doing But a work Of the cruel friend... ...fate! Waste of youth I did not! Hope I hung unto Home after home Place after place... Yet... Never did it come for once! Still... As I wither on I wish I have a kid To till my toils... But... As I go None will weep for me... And all ends In a waste.....