Child, though you are not mine
I hold your weight in my belly all the same.
Like an unspoken promise, one read in
Eyes and lips and subtle hands,
Are the flutters of your non-existence within me.
I loop and loop yellow yarn for your mother
But really for you, child I have not met,
Wishing you were mine, flesh of my flesh,
Blood of my blood. But you are not,
And so I knit you a blanket
Dreaming of that one whose life
My life will knit together.
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