i sit awake , no choice of mine
the moans of labour not far behind
the seductive promise of sleep so deluding
i see newborns , but I'm not brooding
I'll give a leg... ok maybe a toe,
for a warm water bottle, a blanket to throw,
over my cold self, my husband nearby.
on second thought.. I'll give a thigh.
I wait to be called,
rushed into action.
perhaps an emergency ...
I write such nonsense
I've got to go
(can't even find anything to rhyme with nonsense )