I thought that he'd hide in the closet, waiting with a smile, as we came and found him. But the closet's empty.
I thought I'd buy them ice cream in the summer, and ruffle his wind blown hair. But he won't see summer.
I thought I'd read him stories before going to bed, or watch stupid late night comedies on the weekends. But those books stay unread.
But all this was snatched from me, from her, from him and him, when that scan showed your head... So small, so fragile, so tiny compared to all the rest.
So you were snatched from us and now you're gone. And never to return to your family. A sister, a brother, a mother and a father.
Once upon a time I thought you'd be with us, but not anymore. Goodbye my baby brother.
YOU ARE READING
Think about it
شِعرIt makes absolutely no sense. It isn't a story, It has no plot. Its a poem, its a thought its a short story or a scene. It could be anything.
