Heartbroken
She was thinking of locking the door to that room,
and never going in there again.
And yet, she enters; despite her misgivings,
as tears trickled down her cheeks.
Suddenly, she's overwhelmed by soulful thoughts;
having attached themselves to that room
in perpetuity, and taken refuge in her memories.
The air smells of fresh paint and clean linen
and she smiles at the pink carnations painted on the wall,
as her trembling fingers lightly trace over them.
She put so much of herself into planning
every aspect of that room: and it shows.
The hand-carved crib, a gift from her father:
a bed fit for a princess, who will never arrive.
Her mother helped her decorate the nursery:
suggesting pink carnations for a girl.
Taking one last look, she slowly shuts the door,
heartbroken and depressed.
There's no longer any hope left in that room.
Last week, she suffered a miscarriage:
nothing in that room can help
ease her hurt; all she found there were tears.
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