And she sits and thinks with that calm look in her eye. Her brows are furrowed. Three feathers fall from the sky, one for me and one for you, and the last is for that unborn child. With blonde curls and your blue eyes. I wait patiently for the days to pass and become months and hours to be years. When this time is up we will know what our lives mean, what we live for and how not too scream. And in that long awaited time I will walk swiftly with your hand in mine