Poetry

Infertile

I am infertile:

Barren like a fruitless tree.

Capable, but with empty arms.

I’ve been to a doctor:

Nothing is wrong.

They say I am fine, but no fruit has appeared.

I’ve been a wife:

Cooking and cleaning; sewing and ironing.

Marriage suits me well.

I’ve been a mother:

I did not birth them

But I love them just the same

Eyes of blue we share

Though not through DNA

I’ve been a foster mom:

Displaced children grace my home

Brown eyed and dark-skinned

Nothing like me.

I am infertile:

Barren like a fruitless tree.

Capable, but with empty arms.

Written by Tammy Lofgreen

Although I'm not their mother

I care for them each day,

I cuddle, sing and read to them

And watch them as they play.

I see each new accomplishment,

I help them grow and learn.

I understand their language,

I listen with concern.

They come to me for comfort,

And I kiss away their tears.

They proudly show their work to me,

I give the loudest cheers!

No, I 'm not their mother,

But my role is just as strong.

I nurture them and keep them safe,

Though maybe not for long.

I know someday the time will come,

When we will have to part.

But I know each child I cared for,

Is forever in my heart!

~ Author Unknown~