Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Baby died this day last year.
The cot’s still there, the

Cuddly toys still lie silent
As if in mourning, their

Dumb faces expressing
A silent prayer. You walk

The nursery room with
Gentle tread, your hands

Sensing the chill of room,
The window open to bring

In summer air. Each time
You open the door, enter in,

And gaze at the cot, you hope
To see a living babe, but

Know of course, you’ll not.
Nine months you carried the

Prize, imaging baby growing
Up, the first words, first steps,

The happy clap of hands and
Show of smiles and tantrums

Noted. Husband left this time
Last month, couldn’t stand the

Grief, the constant moans, the
Darkening fear. The cot is empty

Still. Baby died this day last year.

thank you for the poem, and the painting that balanced the poem.

Thank you, S T.