The Year I Was Born
April fourth nineteen seventy-nine,
was the day my mother gave birth.
A newborn baby so small and divine,
she thought I had much worth; I was innocent, her full of mirth.
The end of an era was coming quickly,
the seventies would soon come to a close.
I was three months old and became sickly,
had a rare disease nobody still knows; temperatures were in highs and lows.
After two months of hospital living,
I was healed, and no one knew just why.
It was like a miracle I had been given,
father was relieved, mother began to cry; a healthy and regular baby was I.
Father battled alcoholism, I was just a baby,
I heard stories of his anger and rage.
Mother stood by his side and thought maybe
he would change and turn another page; thank God I was at a young age.
You ask where I was in the seventies,
unfortunately, I have not one memory.
All I know is that my life had not ease,
as I saw things a baby shouldn’t see; somehow…I grew up to be me.
Where Were You in the Seventies? Poetry Contest
Line Gauthier
February 21, 2018
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