My Little Girl

Sometimes, every once in a while,
for a few fleeting moments
before the hubbub of everyday takes over
and all dreams are brushed aside,
I feel something roll inside me
and for a fraction of a second I'm transposed
to a time long ago.

I'd dreamed you from the start:
as a tiny mass of cells 
multiplying ferociously inside me -
 I could already see your face,
imagine the contours of your tiny body.
Holding you in my arms
dressing you in little frocks 
and letting you do all that
I wasn't allowed to do.

My precious darling,
you were not to be
I weighed the various facts
and decided to let you go.
You didn't carry enough weight
in my schemes, as they stood:
sucked you out of me, I did:
through a vacuum tube.

Can't afford you at this juncture, 
is the lie I told myself;
set myself free:
to just be me. 
Free to imagine, 
what could have been.

Now when I see little girls
holding mommies' hands, 
and prance around
doing a merry dance,
filled with regret,
I feel a distinct pang-
for what could have been.

But I willed it otherwise.
Don't live with regrets, they tell me
So this guilt, I hide
But I know, I shall pay for it 
only with my life.