My Unborn

I saw my unborn
daughter the other day.

She had dark hair, like her mother’s,
was wearing a dark blue suit,
walking toward me and smiling

with her green eyes
sparkling brilliance
behind designer lenses.

I recognized the confidence
in her walk, for it was my gift to her.

Then someone spoke.

A retracting pulsation,
inward she shrank into a fragmental,
circular blue-light, before vanishing

to wherever it was she came from,

safely tucked away
somewhere in corridors
of thought, for the next twenty years.

My eyes: set in stone, waiting for her return.