Three
September 2nd
Labor Day
Long awaited
Missing the party
But no regrets
Numb from the drugs
Elated from the adrenaline
First cry
On my chest
Lost in that face
You are my purpose
My son
January 31st
Dead of winter
Icy roads
Middle of night
Two days early
On your own time
My arms are ready
Bluest of eyes
On my chest
Tuft of blonde hair
You are my purpose
My daughter
October 13th
Crack of dawn
Barely awake
Anticipation is killing
Been eight years
I’m older, wiser
Then there were three
I breathe you in
On my chest
Turned up nose
You are my purpose
My daughter
April 3rd
Prompt: Write a Connection Poem
Tori Dreamer 