Gift (Of the Surrogate Mother)
All my eggs lay in one basket,
Mother bound, the scattered children
To be or not in warm oasis
Walled by barren womb.
Given freely, should they ask it,
Twinkles in the eyes of dreamers,
Shot at life in open spaces
Or in utero tomb.
How will they look, I stoop to wonder,
Any facet of my make up,
Will primal genes remain of me
In any boy or girl?
Whatever birth signs they lie under,
Astrology and stardust memoirs,
As they find their destiny
Upon this blessed world.
All my dreams were broken china,
Cast in voids of emptiness
And languishing in disarray,
In misery and strife.
Now reconstructed even finer,
Blooming with a glaze and glister,
To the future lights the way,
The gift I give is life...
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