To give love unceasingly is
hiking in the Himalayas
the highs can give you altitude sickness
the views are dizzying and
you often wake up in strange positions with
tent-mate’s elbow in your eye
It’s
scuba diving a pristine reef
your vision distorted with love hormones
the depths drugging you willingly into
anti-gravity dancing bliss
distant silver threat of sharks a faded
grey beside the vividness
It
drains some inkwell in you, too
leaves the body parched for personality
all vital juices trickled dry to be
filled like milk tissues as you sleep
pooling on the sheets as you feed a dreamt being
or a husband’s leg grabbed in
somnambulistic zeal
You need
glutes of reinforced steels for this job
biceps of carbon fibre
eight arms, rhinocerine skin and
nipples of neoprene
facial orifices that don’t mind
being explored by inquisitive fingers
a contortionist’s elastic frame
and the stealth of a catburglar
a hypnotist’s charm
a rugby referee’s command
and a boddhisattva’s ability to accept it all
smilingly
Equip yourselves, ladies!
This child-growing business is
no
mean
feat.
Cavemum 
Hey sweetiepie,
Great poem. I am applauding you, keep up the good work. Beautiful.
Love you, xxxxxxxxx
Wise words from an inspirational lady! Keep up the great work, we’re right behind you š Can’t wait to read more! xxx
Uff, uff, uff! Veeeery challenging task ahead then, those who have not tasted the first child yet, but are just -just about to, just just there, still rocked by the coktel of hormones at the toptip end of pregnancy (basicaly, me!)
I may become in time a cavemum, once the baby is big enough to draw antilopes on our rented house wall…
This is great – will you post it on Poetic License, pleaeaease!!