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I had almost forgotten today was Mother's Day... here is one mother's vivid account of conflicted feelings about her newborn. Written by Sylvia Plath after the birth of her first baby, Frieda, in 1960. I used various images, including a few of Liv Ullman from Ingmar Bergman films. If you enjoy my readings and would like to support the channel, you can buy me a cup of coffee : https://buymeacoffee.com/lorigomez_ap... Morning Song By Sylvia Plath Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue. In a drafty museum, your nakedness Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls. I’m no more your mother Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow Effacement at the wind’s hand. All night your moth-breath Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen: A far sea moves in my ear. One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral In my Victorian nightgown. Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s. The window square Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.