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A Poem For The Child In My Heart

If, oh if, my boy had lived,

This year, I'd search for candles... sixteen,

A flame in each, a wish, a dream,

Lost in the echo of a silent scream.

Loss, a dance of endless twirls,

Grief, it weaves, it ebbs, it swirls,

haunting and strangely pretty,

In life's relentless, bustling city.

In my heart, a cradle sways,

For the child, my soul forever prays,

Unheld hands, unrocked sleep,

In love's depth, endlessly deep.

Parenthood, a perilous peak,

Vulnerability at its most bleak,

Our children, sands of time,

Slipping through fingers, a rhythm, a rhyme.

We gaze at them in awe, in wonder,

Like sand, they drift, they pull asunder,

We hold, not tight, but cherish the sight,

In their fleeting path, our hearts alight.



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