My Son...

How do you love a person
Who never got to be,
Or try again to see a face
You never got to see?
How do you mourn the death of one
Who never got to live,
When there's nothing to feel good about
And nothing to forgive?

I love you, my son.
You're a person of the wind,
Free to be the memory
Of all that might have been.

I love you, my son,
My companion of the night,
Wandering through my lonely hours,
Beautiful and bright.

What does it mean to die before
You ever can be born,
To live the lovely night of life
And never see the dawn?

Ah! My litle boy,
You lived like anyone!
Life's a burst of joy and pain,
And then, like yours, it's done.

I love you, my precious son,
Just as if you'd lived for years.
No more, no less, I think of you,
The angel of my tears.

by angeleyes7686
posted on 04/22/2008