Labor of the Day

Your baby, standing on her tiny wobbly legs,
Staring at you, her fingers joyfully in her mouth
I am like that, when it comes to you.

Who are you, then? I’ve heard it said
That there is a phase women go through,
When they roughshod over children like me,
While I stand staring at you, my heart in my mouth.

Is that you?

/* ]]> */