Little Chairs

------------------ Four little empty chairs Four pairs of little hands Around our table In my imagination Little daughters and sons That could not quite come In their failed gestation Eight exotic eyes in pairs Never to be woman or man Shining bright like in fables Hold their father's rapture As if they'd been born And not instead torn By man or nature's fracture Tragedies we share Our young family plan Was made so unstable We held onto each other We never lost heart We did not fall apart In our arms we were covered Our other babies were spared And were held in my hand Those four little ones able But someday I will see Eight curly tow heads When my children are led And embraced in eternity