Lookit that baby, she thinks.
His open face is both solemn and happy.
The light in his eyes says his spirit
lives down in there full time and
finds it safe and good. He's heavy
and solid with it, and she envies
him and longs to protect him in
equal measure. Her brain sings
of all the sorrow he'll see if he's
lucky to have long life, but she
brushes it away and thinks of the
joys. It's the same story, really;
told with the heart in the throat
or on the sleeve.
