When does something become yours?
When you talk to her?
When you hold imaginary conversations with her when she is within?
When you weave future memories in absentia?
When you internalise your motherhood even before you deliver?
When you dream of holding tiny hands and walking around the block?
When you await the smell and smile and imagine them?
When you talk of grandparents and books and music ---
Alas! The memories of a short-lived conversation cuts through my being
Someone who should have been born is gone
~ Anne Sexton
P. S.:- Written for a dear friend S.
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