She sits by his bed
Late at night
Quietly praying
For him to survive
The fever was growing
His temperature rose
how he caught it
Nobody knows
He's just two months old
Has not yet lived his life
By his bed is his dad
Holding the hand of his wife
They were weary with worry
Tired and quiet
There had been a medicine
But they were to poor to buy it
The baby cried
His mom comforted him
Held him close
His cries were dim
She rocked the poor baby
The baby went still
The mom didn't notice
Her arms he did fill
She glanced down to look
And cried out in the night
The baby had died in her arms
As up rose the dawns light
Author notes
Dark Poem
I believe a baby's death is the most sad, and dark thing that is possible. So unnecessary, and yet, all too often, a life is ended so quickly.
A contest entry
- Another DARK Contest by Audie-Is-Healed.
320 points, ended September 16, 2007, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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