Baby Makes One
Fear is all that I sense and feel it is near. Why must I anguish over my pain with
nothing solid to gain. Once again I check my hat, ruffle my clothes and feed the
cat. I stare at the wall and can't remember if I ever felt this small. The phone
rings with a jar and I almost fall of my chair, and then I run a hand across my
hair. I pickup the phone and with a groan and with anticipation I spit out the
words is it a boy or a girl and with a smile I close my eyes and twirl.
Copyright © James Zitella | Year Posted 2006
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