Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

She wanted to remember
her baby as she was.

Not the last image
of paleness and cold flesh

and the white scrawl
wrapped loosely

about her.
She wanted to remember

the first time she held her,
the tiny fingers

and toes,
and the eyes bright

like small stars.
She wanted to hold

onto the pictures
of the baby

in her head,
the ones that captured

the first smile,
the first suck

on dug,
the first wrap

of tiny fingers
around her own

motherly thumb.
All that was left now

was the silent
grief-filled hum.

the loss of a child must be the ultimate pain, it's hard for me to even think about it, but I've watched my sister deal with it the last sixteen years, and it ain't easy...
dark subject, handled well........

Thank you, Saw. Sorry about your sister. My daughter also lost a baby. My wife has had a few miscarriages.

Dadio, What a great, but sad descriptive poem!

thank you for reading & comments, Steve.