Delivery Room

Did you cry?
Maybe you slept
Because it was not
And never will be
The Golden View
You thought it would be
First glimpse
Sight
Sound
Vision and breath
First cognizant contact
A new and unconstrained
Look at the mess
We have made of
I, Me and You
I'd ask but
Watching you 
Huddled on the floor
I know the first
Thing you saw
When you opened upon
Was a strangers hand
Swinging your way
Shade casting shadow
Newspaper on a
Cold and windy night
Skitterish victim
I wish there were
Something more...
A reason I could articulate
For ever choosing
A place with such archaic
Methods with which to greet
Those who've chosen
To come through the door