In the middle of
The worst part
Of the harshest storm
Pregnant
Motherly instinct
Evident
My voice remained calm
For even in the womb
He could hear me
I'd steal away
To the quietest
Of places
Talk to him real slow
"Mommy's going to
make everything all right.
Right now, my sweet,
sleep tight."
His kicks inside me
Would gently slow
I felt him relax
As I hummed a lullaby
Soft
And low.
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