She had to give her child away, <br />Only she, knew the circumstances, <br />Her heart, turning into clay, <br />As every new day advances. <br />The hurt becoming so acute, <br />How could she live this way, <br />Guilt was gradually taking root, <br />And nothing one could say, <br />Would take away the sorrow, <br />Would take away the pain, <br />Of wishing that maybe tomorrow, <br />She could hold her child again. <br /> <br />© Ernestine Northover<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/maybe-tomorrow/
