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Counting A Lifetime

Poetry By: Phoebe Kishbaugh
Poetry



this is just an instance of misfortune a young girl has encountered


Submitted:Feb 17, 2012    Reads: 20    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


One, two, three and down the hatch

She took a little, baby-blue pill---

Wased down with water

At exactly 9 pm

Every day.

Four, five, six grueling days

Until the little glove

Won't be needed

Anymore.

Seven, eight, nine months

To wait for the baby

Because the pills

She took didn't

Work.

Ten, eleven, twelve hours

Of excrutiating pain

And then a child

Is born.

Thriteen, fourteen, fifteen months

Until the baby learns to

Walk and talk and

Laugh.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen years

And now the child is grown

So it moves on to

Make its own

Mistakes.





1

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