The throbbing throes of a heart beating twice
What is this that enfolds me in gloom –
Not the child that I carry, enwrapped so close
To my bowels – so heavy and kicking?
I know it is just this fearful mind,
Anxious of the future as love’s fruit is swelling –
Swelling to express all of my pain and pleasure;
Pain so painful – this heavy heaving,
And pleasure, when he again starts kicking.
Come soon, time seems to linger and linger on.
Come soon to put your little arms around me,
Or just to be near, even if you lay on your side
Of the bed, turning your face to me, even in sleep
I will know the pleasure of gazing – at your face.
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