Tuesday, April 19, 2011
It’s my pillow, but I don’t mind.
His drool will dry in no time.
He is my son, my little boy.
The one I thought might die.
He is so peaceful, in my bed;
his blanket tucked around his head.
His knees are up; his left toes curled.
He means more to me than all the Jeffreys in the world.
Though it is dark, in my mind’s eye
I see that scar that saved his life.
I know how lucky we have been.
No therapy or hospital stays for him.
I count the years that I have had
with Jeffrey by his twin brother’s side.
A Daniel without Jeffrey would not be whole.
I know this deep within my soul.
I love my boy, my miracle.
I thank God he is with me still.
I pick him up, his blanket, too.
He rests his head on me and sighs.
I carry him off to bed.
He is mine.
April 23, 2002
Posted by Cheri Chesley at 11:44 AM
Labels: cheri chesley, Poetry
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Very touchng, RaShelle.
This is very sweet and heartfelt. It reminded me of my own kids.
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