deepundergroundpoetry.com

Having Babies

Tender age of eighteen
First baby from love’s song
She fit in right between
As we walked along

Second baby coming
A great new adventure
A new way of summing
With olives on her fingers

Two were an active handful
So we thought of waiting
Though we were quite careful
The gift was not abating

And soon a little brother
When I was twenty one
Would come join the others
And even then not done

We had to hope and pray
There would be a number four
Two and a half years later
We got our Winter Sunshine
Sweet child we adore

In a new place we were building
Had to just add one more
And then for five years waiting
We tried to purge the crazy
By letting them all grow

And though that hope grew hazy
Our prayer for more would show
Two more sons share a birthday
Though they're two years apart
Brotherly love is their way
A sign to educate the heart

At thirty five another
A sweet little baby girl
We hold onto each other
Though the wind of life does whirl

We do not wish to play the martyr
To be spent like tired salmon
To use our blood for barter
Instead as time goes on

We seek regeneration
And maybe take a breather
But this poem is far from done
We aren't finished either
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