By Nana M’bawa
It could have been
Could have been laughter
Could have been anger
Could have been walks to the park
Could have been the first words
The first steps
It could have been
She mourns
What could have been
Even as they tell her she can’t mourn for what she never had
But she thinks
It could have been
And the thought of what could have been
Brings something like tears
Something heavy that she carries
Instead of what could have been.
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