The only thing I have of you,
Is tiny footprints on a page,
The only proof that you were here,
The little blanket I had made.
They couldn't find your heartbeat,
They tried again, and again...
All that was heard was awful silence,
Where your heartbeat should have been.
I never felt you move,
I never heard you cry,
But I did hold you in my arms,
Said, "I love you," said, "Goodbye."
You'll never have a birthday,
Nor any Christmas toys,
And there will always be one missing,
My precious little boy.
YOU ARE READING
All the Small Things
PoetryThis is where all my poems will live. This is where nightmares and dreams begin. Edit on January 10, 2014: 4 more poems to go, and then this book will be ended. Edit on February 21, 2014: The 50th poem is up. This book is complete.
