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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