No. 2296, A Dream that Never Will Unfurl (Poetry)

This is a sestina poem.

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In silent whispers, thoughts fill heavy air,
the mother ponders life within her womb, —
the reason vast, the fears and hopes untold,
and in her heart, a quiet, mournful cry:
a life so small, a dream yet to unfurl;
unseen, unheard, it yearns for just a chance.

To live, to breathe, to play, to love, a chance
denied so swiftly, lost within the air, —
a destiny that never will unfurl,
a spark extinguished deep within the womb,
its silent heartbeat echoes one last cry:
a future lost, a story left untold.

What might have been, — the tales that go untold, —
a soul unseen that never had its chance.
A silent plea, — a faint, unspoken cry
that drifts away upon the morning air, —
a life that grows no more within the womb, —
a hope and dream that never will unfurl.

Yet in the shadows, thoughts begin to unfurl:
a mother’s sorrow for a tale untold, —
a tiny heartbeat silenced in the womb,
a fragile life never to get its chance.
The weight of choice hangs heavy in the air, —
a silent grief and soft, lamenting cry.

In dreams, perhaps, there’s heard a whispered cry:
a tiny spirit longing to unfurl, —
to take its place within the world, the air,
to write a story that remains untold,
to grasp at life, to have a fleeting chance,
to grow and thrive beyond the mother’s womb.

Yet in the air, outside the empty womb,
is a mother’s penitent cry for thieving chance, —
forgiveness to unfurl for a tale untold.