A baby cries being born; around my finger his hand curled

His soul exposed to the world 

From the comfort of his mother’s womb

A heart on my sleeve I so proudly worn

 

Sacrifice and time at work

Hours of toil I wish would have otherwise spent

Vacations at the beach, our feet in the sand

Joyous memories I try to recall at your grave where I stand

 

My child, my son, my best friend

Our dreams and plans, when you died, came to an end

Movies and music, words written on a page 

Compare very little to the sorrow for the loss of my son at his young age.

 

 

Views: 48

Comments are closed for this blog post

Latest Conversations

Community Guidelines

Please be respectful of others. For more information, read our Community Guidelines.

Follow Legacy

© 2019   Created by Legacy.com.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service