Broody on the Beach


She watches, brooding, the child with the sandy hair.
Wishing, that one day, she could bring her child there.
He plays in the sand, in his little blue shorts,
As greed becomes her, consuming her thoughts.

For she is the one,out of all of her friends,
That shall never be content, never find an end,
To her search for happiness. So she sits; lonely, and bored.
As she watches envious, noticed, yet ignored.

She preys on others now, a set of three,
Watching them intently, praying that she,
Could hold them close. Stroke their curls,
Either would be a blessing: boys or girls.

Amongst the pebbles, and the algae, so green,
A bead of sweat shines on her forehead, glistens, gleams.
As does her burning jealousy, her fiery compassion,
She parades her bitterness it's part of her fashion.

Her tight pulled back bun, the pristine clothes,
But this is a lifestyle,that she has not chose.
For Infertility, has cursed her so,
And forced her down, to the depths below.

She watches, brooding, the child with the sandy hair,
Wishing, that one day, she could bring her child there.
But she can not, and will never, give her children an ice cream each,
So she takes one last breath, broody on the beach.

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