Cradling her newborn in her arms
resisting his obvious charms
hesitantly approaching the steps
taking a long, deep, breath

Whispering a prayer
“God give me strength”
placing her son on the ground
he not uttering a sound

Then his body shakes convulsively
she knows her addiction is his
she knocks on the door and runs
not stopping to see who answers

Scouring the news next day
headlines resonating within
they’ve called him ‘Billy’
to her he’ll always be Paul

There weaning him of the stuff
and looking for his mum
that will never be her
she’s done the right thing

Thinking of his brilliant future
makes her heart sing