We were close to being bonded, you and I;
so close to the precipice of change,
so close I could feel my bones rattling;
swore I could feel my abdomen stretch
ever so slightly
to accommodate your tiny body;
so close was I to facing the reality of your creation
that I now feel abandoned by it;
an idea, a possibility, a tiny hope.

You leave me here to walk on
as you fade into the darkness
of what could have been,
into the shadows of
other great ideas.

I hold on tightly to the last threads
of your almost-being-
what hair you may have had-
soft and dark like mine or
coarse and plush like your father's.

Would you have smiled at me
when our eyes first met or
would you have pondered
what I am,
who I am,
who you are-
as I most certainly would have done,
still do...