My baby’s life but gone, forgotten,
A life that never will.
My baby’s death a pain, a strain,
A heart that heaven stilled.
Alone I feel, in solitude,
Lost, lonely and unfulfilled.
Always my mind will hold Him tight,
My ghostly son, now killed.
—–
My belly’s small and youthful still
Where new life should be Him.
Inside, my heart it aches and weeps,
For a babe borne without whim.
No where was it scribed, or written
That his life should fade and dim.
Of all the earths most precious places,
Im shamed this one wore thin.
——
A boy for sure, no doubt, my babe,
He’d have grown up big and strong.
My child whose life was craved, adored,
Will be loved for years come long.
And when my belly’s stroked by me,
With gentle care and song,
I’ll cry no more my boy, my son,
For with me you will belong.
An Ayla A Day 