blood spots on cotton or lace.
Doctors say its normal
when it looks so out of place.
The eggs expand so sweetly
like a soft round pink balloon,
a pin prick of dots and pain in shots
is this a creation or a tomb?
God paces the floor, a Father
awaiting news he already knows.
He knew the choices and roads taken
He knew how this garden would grow.
The buds of the flowers are sleeping
as their life slips back into the mud,
their time with the stork indeed fleeting
but Jesus says "In life there is blood."
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