It sounds so wonderful
I can see her inquisitive eyes
In my mind
A dream created
Someone to finally call my own
Flesh, tears, blood and smiles
To have trudged these
Million of miles
With an end result
So satisfying
But then I wonder
About whether or not
I could bring a child
Into this world
A world that has only worsened
Complicated with sickness being thrown
Inevitably something will stick and
Then I gaze at my reflection in the mirror
Asking myself If I have the patience
The ability to raise a child
Perhaps, I'm too selfish
Absorbed in the inconsequential affairs
So here I stand without a child
To raise in my own image or conditions
I've answered my own questions
Tomorrow may reveal another confession...

P-Sep 27, 2007/Bowling Green