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We
knitted some clothes
but they'll never fit.
We made you a
bed.
You'll never lie in it
&
we sang "hush-a-bye baby"
but you never cried
& the
mobile is immobile.
The nursery's unoccupied.
The sandcastles
we dreamed of building
are washed out by the tide
& the dawn
will never kiss your lips.
This child has died.
They
tell me this pain
will ease given time
that soon I'll kiss your
little sister
& you'll be like Clementine
but
I can't forget the smiling face
that I've never seen.
Is this
silence the epitaph
for whoever you might have been?
Oh how I've
loved you.
How I love you still I'm left empty inside.
Now
the world calls me to live again
but this child has died.
My
child has died.
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