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.