Before I say Goodbye

as I held my dead son.

         
Poem          

Before I say Goodbye

Slowly tears patter;
onto your sweet face.
Memorize as blood stained,
fingers longingly trace.
An etching of you,
amateur engraving,
desperate attempt at saving.
Delicately dabbing at your sores.
Evidence of traveling, through
your own little war...for nothing.
You are too still,
as I dress you.
You'd wriggle-escape,
from nappy time soon.
And your hands,
crafted, for guitar.
To play in the band,
with your brother.
Fingers soft as tiny petals,
on the most feathery flower.
And I have to leave you soon,
I don't even have 1 hour.


Meriki Parkinson