Pretty Ugly
A lonely woman, a chance meeting,
Nine months later, a baby girl is born.
Holding her close, as this was not planned,
Peeking under the blanket, feeling forlorn.
A tiny face, reddish, with hair all over her body,
The mother embraced her “pretty ugly baby.”
She exclaimed out loud, “My baby will be somebody!”
There were no doubts, not even a maybe.
Another little mouth to feed,
God blessed her with seven.
This little halfbreed
Was a gift from heaven.
Raised and nurtured with love,
In a world that can also be pretty ugly.
Part of the family, fitting like a glove,
“The best decision I ever made,” she said smugly.
Through hard times and sleepless nights,
The years sped by—her baby is now old.
Holding on tight as the priest read her mother the last rites,
Hand in hand, a bond pure as gold.
At night she clutches her picture frame,
With trembling hands and tear-filled eyes.
She whispers, “Thank you, Mama, for loving me all the same.
Oh, please visit me again—as a butterfly.”
Copyright © Lise Clendening | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment