Two nights ago, our whole world changed. And now
your Father’s struggling to fit the car seat.
Little One, you’ve no idea how
half wild, I gripped the hospital’s white sheets,
or how my screams shattered the frozen night,
almost cracked the moon in two. When you were born,
I swear the earth stopped in its tracks, gold light
flooded the room, winter withdrew. At dawn
I held you in my arms, a tightly wrapped
Christmas gift, your card left blank, unwritten,
our journey together yet to be mapped.
Come, let’s take you home, let’s strap you in.
The stars are watching as we drive past.
When did the universe become so vast?
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