Unborn
the unborn life, has thoughts to dream
would not, have yet learned how to scheme
would not have dreams of love nor hate
rainbows, seem to explain their state
as their liquid life, begins to abate
our past will speak to this unborn's fate
Why? How? What happened? Tears.
Maybe only seconds but, their dreams were here.
Copyright © Tom Larrow | Year Posted 2012
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