A friend sent me this poem after reading my post Someone Out There. It brought such tears to my eyes. It describes precisely how I feel...
The Unborn
By Sharon Olds
Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
the children we could have,
the glimmer of them.
Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing
in some antechamber – servants, half-
listening for the bell.
Sometimes I see them lying like love letters
in the Dead Letter Office.
And sometimes, like tonight, by some black
second sight I can feel just one of them
standing on the edge of a cliff by the sea
in the dark, stretching its arms out
desperately to me.
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