This bauble of belly must be a mirage.
Is this what the angel meant
when he whispered, just out of range,
the word imp?
One day this will be yours, a neat
rendering of a story, a page scrambled
with baby footprints. One magpie
means sorrow, two the joy you regain.
This boy-child’s a magnet
and your heart’s a painter –
sky-broad brushstrokes teaming
on canvas. A brand new era.