The days are long
And the years are short
They were right all along
And so wrong it pains me.

I am long
And short is my memory
Of the small horrors
In the early years.

Is there enough milk
To fill yet another bottle?
Is there enough me
To soothe yet another tantrum?

Is there ever, enough for me?
To exist as a person
I once was
And have not been for nine months
And nine months
And nine months in between.

This is many months
And I don´t know (yet)
If i´ll ever be
Me
Again.

But there´s snow falling
In front of my window
In this snow-less country
And there´s small breaths
In between,
My baby´s and mine.

And the days have become years
And I have become a mother
(whatever that is)
And a person
(whatever this is)
And life has been going on for some time.

No tantrums and no bottles anymore
No broken nights
And broken days
And broken apart promises.
Now it´s homework and worries
Big and small

And people, from my womb
Amidst it all.
We have made it,
I think
The days have become a regular length
And the years don´t rush us anymore.
Time is our friend again.