In the moonlight she stood beside his tiny bed,
looking down in tenderness on ringleted head--
Her little boy softly cradled in dream filled sleep.
What dreams were these? Into that land she wished to creep
and join the playtime he enjoyed with skipping sheep.
Around his form she drew the sheet and kissed his face
then tiptoed out and down the hall to her own place
where in her own mother dreams she would sweetly trace
her darling child who filled her loving heart with joy.
She did not stir; one tiny sigh was all her boy
released as guarding wings swept by the little toys;
an angel leaning softly down lifted her heart
her pride, her joy and those white wings did upward start,
wide spread, cleaving the air for heaven's rampart,
leaving only the imprint of his childish form.
Baptized with grief the sheets that bear his baby form;
her empty hands trace the outline of a cruciform,
a rosary of tears she wears till heaven calls.
Copyright, July 4, 2016
Ringleted and pink cheeked, the girl child sat,
Upon the bench next to her Da and his cronies.
The Goliaths munched greasy burgers and string fries.
Dirt smudged her upturned face.
Like the remnants of the grime covering Da's overalls.
Baseball caps and factory-embroidered jackets;
Spoke of tractor pulls and manure piles ripe for the garden.
A bunch of salt laced potatoes dangled from her mitt.
Droplets of gooey ketchup dribbled from the corner of her lip.
Uncles surrounded in a girth of love so large
And as her tiny paten leather feet touched the floor
Her hand reached for Da's and the blankie.
All was right with the world.
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