Labour

Picking up the child which cries,
She knows she has patience
For one of her own;
But it makes her think of her own family ties
And what she was like as a child –
What she must have put her parents through
When she was too young to know.
They managed with her,
So she must manage now,
Though in some ways she still feels like a child herself,
But one in high heels.
For really, we are all kids, she thought:
Though today, it is in adulthood
That she is caught.
A sort of more complicated version
Of being young
But still not really knowing any answers –
Still asking questions.
She felt like a child
That had given birth to a child,
Both of them still wild
With frustration:
Though she was much wilder
Since growing that bit older
And becoming more aware
Of the Human Situation.