She can almost pinpoint
To the moment
Her baby died,
The second's tick;
The whole room;
The window
Where some cloud
Had drifted by,
The faces of those
Who had come to help,
Each blemish on cheek
Or brow,
And that tiny crack
Inside her head
When the words
Came in:
Your baby's dead.
She can always see
The baby
In her mind's eye;
Feel it
With imaginary hands;
Touch with phantom fingers
Along the delicate skin,
And let the ghostly baby
Into her fragmented
Head and heart;
Never to be taken again,
Never to be apart.
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Comments: 22
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Again very sad, but extremely well done and quite powerful.