Few in number now we are
In contrast to our plan
When we returned and skipped ashore
Alighting back on land.
The number that we held ideal
As we held each other’s hand
Our strategy agreed upon
- create our family:
Triumvirate of mini-mes
First one, then two, then three.
They’d complement our coupledom.
But it was not to be
We got as far as four of us,
And twice were nearly five
Two tiny lives, remained inside,
They lived, breathed not and died.
But, we vowed to persevere
And so again we tried.
But then you left – another plan
That we could not foresee:
Our vision of us all became
Impossibility.
Our current total, now reduced
By two: not five, but three.
Our number, static as it is
Cannot now increase
But can reduce, the underlying
Worry will not cease
That one day, one or more of us
Will cruelly be released.
This morning I was gladly told
Another’s dream of five
Is imminent, a third addition
Tiny, though alive
Now nestles in a belly
And in nine months will arrive.
It reminded me of our design,
Scenarios unseen.
We failed what we set out to do
By circumstance extreme.
I speculate and softly mourn
The thing that might have been.