To My Child

There, walled, is he or she.
Quiet in one small room,
settled comfortably –

housed triumphantly.
Darling without a name,
growing, waiting to be

in being, now mystery
hiding in a form
more akin to the sea,

then changing magically,
stretching every limb,
clamouring to be free

yet kept in secrecy,
let no hurt or harm
cause worry or difficulty

in the delivery
of you in perfect trim.
Eye and hand and knee

all so good to see.
Soon you will leave home
and meet your mother and me.