Unborn
the unborn life, has thoughts to dream
would not, have yet learned how to scheme
would not have dreams of love nor hate
rainbows, seem to explain their state
as their liquid life, begins to abate
our past will speak to this unborn's fate
Why? How? What happened? Tears.
Maybe only seconds but, their dreams were here.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
