Dear Uterus

Dear Uterus,

You know I love you.

I know you have been long neglected

and, honestly, I’d have expected

for you to have had your debut by now.

Don’t ask me how we’ve gone so many years

waiting for you to take the stage.

We’re on the same page, trust me, I want kids.

But here we are, no lullabies to sing.

It would be different if you couldn’t do the thing.

That would be fine – just fate,

not running late for life,

the sinking feeling of missed opportunities

dissolving down through you right to the bottom;

days wrapped in cotton,

safe and comfortable but somehow muffled

without the sharpness of a baby’s screech,

the painful focus that a child would bring.

Again, if you could never do the thing…

Instead we’re simply slowly getting older.

We smoulder, conjuring perhaps a little girl

made out of smoke but we might never get to hold her.

Well, never mind, dear uterus, I’m still

happy to have you, we’re a damn good match.

That’s lucky as it’s sometimes not the case –

some crave you, others want you gone post-haste.

But you and I, we’re besties, there’s no catch.

So let’s sit back and just let life unfurl.

You’ve made me me, that’s gotta count for something,

and – que sera, sera!

With love,

Your Girl