Poems & Essays

22 Jan

First Born

General/Column One Response

I lay in the bed beside you,
That grave face,
Those clear eyes.
We were refugees together,
From the sleeping wars.
I was looking at you,
Thinking all kinds of things,
Among them,
The desire to hold you,
The desire to run.
And then the reality,
Of that small head,
On the pillow,
So perfectly complete,
Making its own declaration.


Beth Mills has been writing poetry all her life. Her grandmother was a poet who wrote in Yiddish. She has been greatly influenced by her work and her father’s love for poetry. She was an elementary school teacher for forty-three years during which she read and wrote poetry with her students.

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1 Comment

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  1. Susan Goldstein

    January 25, 2016 at 12:36 am

    I know that conflicted feeling; it’s why I always say that is why God made babies so irresistibly adorable!


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