Blue Baby

Mother still round, in love with child anew Easy to overlook the subtle hints Of the fracture within, trained eye sees clue Eighty-two shines your number, bluish tint. Tearful farewell, fated day has arrived. Pained mother’s face as we pass through the door Invisible cord stretch, tense and alive Umbilical phantom limb evermore. With tubes, scalpel, we enter sacred space. The threshold crossed, commitment becomes real To hold numbers, sounds, instead of your face. The care within transmutes into sharp steel Foreshortened, stolen, your time may well be Yet you touch the hearts of all who touch thee.