You train ambitions you will never heed. And hurry onward, though you are unclear. You call to me, yet still, I know you dream. You cannot reach me as it once had seemed. Tradition I bend down more.
Women have such impossible posture.
On all fours I remember our portion. Before love, we shaped the question as a gesture sharing one body. In this, you came to be. Someday, I will choose again, recognizing this is not the joy that could have been . . . recognizing the stolen doubts . . . Who am I to give or to give away life .