She took the child wrapped in death,
And held her close in her mothering arms
And kissed the brow with her tired lips.
Still now; no movement or crease;
No release of smile or wind;
No uttered cry or whinge of pain.
The baby sagged
Like drowned kittens in a sack,
All flesh, bones, and dying muck
Wrapped in a white shroud like gown.
No quizzical gaze or frown
Just the slow still minutes ticking by
And an empty gulf of grief digging deep.


Comments: 15
rare species
db10 of course.
Gather Broadcasting: Have it your way
This takes you in the back door. If you’ve already been, don’t click again.