October 27, 2013

 

 

She ached for her when she was one,

and from her side, by then, had gone.

 

She bled for her when she was two,

and prayed that she had made it through.

 

She longed for her when she was three,

and didn’t have her by her knee.

 

She thought of her when she was four,

like every year that had gone before.

 

All she could do by the time she was five,

was hope that God had kept her alive.

 

She knew that by her age of six,

no long term heartache could she fix.

 

When she was seven, she thought of her-

another year without her there.

 

And when, next summer, she was eight,

her heart with love, still carried weight.

 

She wondered then, when she was nine,

if she was happy and doing fine.

 

When she was ten, she was at a loss all day-

A decade since she went away.

 

The pattern, the same, with lamented pain,

as each year came around again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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