Monday, 9 July 2018


I am a song

Yet will never

Be heard

I am an airy brush of wing

Yet will never

Know flight

I am a hint of summer skies

Yet will never

Greet dawns blush

I am the contented coo

Of Motherhood

Yet will never

Nurture my own

I am the notion

Of all that could have been

Yet was not to be

Still, through this

I am.

Poem only Copyright Lynn Gerrard

No comments:

Post a Comment