I have always been clumsy.
Dropping, breaking,
losing things.
Careless and thoughtless
some might say.
It’s not intentional.
 
When you’re young
it doesn’t matter.
There’s time enough
to find the things
you mislaid.
But time is a liar.
 
I had eggs you see.
Lots of them, as a girl.
Little cells of hope
and legacy
to hand my dreams to.
Now it seems,
they are gone.
 
Where did I lose them?
Did they run away
to find another, more
“motherly” than me?
When did I decide
there was no reason
to keep them safe?
 
I miss them when
I let myself remember
past thoughts
for the future.
You never need anything
until it’s lost.