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Dearest Ma,

I know you’ve been thinking of me.
Cos you keep playing Mr. Billy Joel’s, “Goodnight, my Angel” again for the nth time.
They’re like a lightning bolt
Sending a million volts through my train of thought

I then stop and think of you, too.

Did you know why there are balloons in the sky?
Those are from the Land Babies
Sent to the Sky Babies.
I’ve played with them while I look down aloft a merry cloud.
No one can resist the popping which you call “thunder”.

You need not worry though,
For I am in good hands now.

I would’ve been the perfect middle child.
Causing havoc and getting into all kinds of trouble,
That no one can comprehend why.

I would’ve loved being a suckling for a year.
See my face light up
And hear me coo
When I know and feel you’re near.

I would’ve loved hearing Dad recite his poem of the birds and the bees, with sarcasm, when I cause trouble or, with stars twinkling in your eyes, when I’ve been an angel.

I would’ve loved playing with him on his guitar and enjoyed discovering his records for he makes sure you don’t miss hearing them.

I would’ve told him off, too, alongside with you,
When he picks up the wrong “hand” towel again.

I would’ve loved joining you in your karaoke weekends
And danced to Taylor Swift’s “22”
While I make up my own words to the song,

But I just remembered I am now been Heaven-sent.

So, Ma, don’t be sad
Don’t be blue.
Just remember that every time a lightning bolt is seen,
They’re not meant to give you a fright,
But merely to let you
Know that I thought of you, too.

Love lots and wip kisses,
Your unborn “perfect” baby

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