BABY DAY.

A WOMAN AND HER BABY LOSS.

Baby day.

That was it,

that day her

baby died,

stiff and white,

the Teddy,

dumb looking,

sat staring,

just a toy

not caring.

Early day

is the worse

of all times,

when her world,

baby world,

ceased to be,

and numbness

took over,

dark hours,

days and months,

and now years.

None went there,

baby's room,

except her;

the husband

ignored it,

the others,

grandparents,

other kids,

past tense talked

baby's death,

turned blind eye

to the place

of the death.

She alone

visited

each morning

to check cot,

pat Teddy,

tidy up

the blankets,

one pillow,

and pull down

the toy string

making an

angel sing.

Then each night

she repeats

rituals

of palm blown

soft kisses

to the spot

where ghostly

baby smiles

phantom lips,

that no one,

except she,

and teddy,

ever see.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A sad and beautiful poem. The poem told a real story. I have 6 sisters and three daughters. Woman hold on to their babies in life and death. The story create a vision of real life and eternal pain. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, Coyote