baby shower poem

is there anybody there
he'd even have his joke
gone are the three, those sisters rare
let us pity those who are better off than we are
love me at last, or if you will not
for then without
to come so soon to this imagined dark
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
see, from this counterfeit of him
she limps with halting painful pace
now while my lips are living
earth travails
my mother taught me that every night