The Silent Crib
Long the silence in his crib
Where happiness once bloomed.
Draped in black are closed white doors
Of his empty nursery room.
No longer does his hobby horse
Rock wildly with abandon.
No longer does his happy voice
Echo down the hallway canyon.
Long are the faces of his parents
In the nearby silent bedroom,
Which hide unanswered questions
Among sorrow guilt and gloom.
Why does God take such good young boys,
And leave their homes so unreconciled?
Nothing empties your life so quickly
As the death of your only child.
Copyright © Steven Getz | Year Posted 2024
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