One Syllable

2016-09-21 One Syllable

My bid to hide from the piece of my mind,
The one that looks like a call to life,
A wail of a child,
A slap in the face,
A lack of small hands.
I place the bet, hope to close the door
But it is hard.
The path leads to cries, coos, sleep,
point in time.
All of these make me ache.
Vast and no end to loss of a child.
I took a walk through dew and grass
as two, with my son.
A walk of light and still air.
Tread at my side, my love.
I can see through your brown eyes
to the next stage.
No rush, no fear.
I had to choke back a sob
and rub the thin ring on my thumb.
A heart, my heart.


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