Holds are the most beautiful of secrets.

No one knows yet,
Nothing appears, and yet,
In his eyes, she gloats over still shaky news.
Imperceptible in the eyes of the world, in a haven of prudence,
You will never suppose that last night, between the bath mat and the earthenware,
She lived the most decisive moment of her existence.
One of those whirlwinds that unexpectedly grabs you and changes you forever.
For now, she is still. She grinned.
She keeps her little secret…
Standing on the subway
No one gives up his place,
She takes advantage of still going incognito.
She fears, she designs herself, she considers herself to the millimeter.
As you speak to him, his gaze is drawn elsewhere.
It is the interior.
She is burning to share with you her fantastic event,
The words pour in and threaten to come out unexpectedly.
Regretfully wait a moment longer.
She stamps her feet but keeps her little secret…
She is fearful it is just a dream, the figment of her imagination.
She kept all the proof well buried at home.
She only talks about that with her companion,
They strive to earn; that became the sole topic of conversation.
She’s worried that it will go away,
Let everything go up in smoke, a flash in the pan.
She dares not assume it, and yet
She already needs to modify the size of her underwear.
She thinks she’s going nuts, her brain never finding peace.
She reasoned, by brooding her little secret…
At work, with his buddies, in the street,
His whole body goes through its greatest molt,
Its character, its role, its identity,
Everything is turned upside down, converted.
Under the sweaters and pants,
Still covered, a little round belly,
Make the life that stretches widen,
Holds are the most beautiful of secrets:
A child.

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