A quiet room, the clock ticks slow,
September nears, the days drag on,
Her hands rest softly on the swell,
Where life stirs deep, the future drawn.

She whispers prayers into the night,
Hopes tangled with a trace of fear,
For every breath, a wish is cast,
To cradle love when it appears.

Her body aches, a gentle strain,
As summer fades to autumn’s song,
Each heartbeat echoes, soft refrain,
The hours stretch, but time feels wrong.

In dreams, she sees a tiny face,
Eyes wide...