It was forty-three years ago today when I left your womb.
Your death has brought about tears, despair and gloom.
Usually pregnancies last nine months but you had a longer wait.
You carried me for ten months, I was a month late.
From the day I was born until the day you died, we shared a special bond.
You were always there for me and I’m still unhappy because you’re gone.
You didn’t deserve to suffer the way you did, what a horrible fate.
The doctors did all they could but you went to the hospital too late.
I didn’t know what I had until I lost it and I lost you too soon.
It was forty-three years ago today when I left your womb.

[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who gave birth to me 43 years ago today.]