a memory. a child.

i can see you sometimes
when i hold myself in the
darkness
at night
before i drift off to my real world.

i miss your laugh,
but i would never tell
that
to anyone
for fear of being weak.

but your eyes are there always
and i can't let them go.
i wonder how it would have been
if you hadn't gone,
and i don't suppose there was any way
around it.
when our clocks become unplugged,
so do we.

but i still think it would have been
nice
for you to see me now.
i'm not looking for your pride,
i'm just hoping for your eyes
one more time.
but they're always with me when i sleep
and they keep the darkness away
when i look into them.
it would still be nice to have you here
to take away the fear
of when my clock
becomes undone.

i miss you at times like these
when i wonder of
how happy you would have been
to see the same look in your grandchild's eyes
and see a little bit of yourself staring back.

i miss you at times like these
before i go to sleep
and see you one more time
the way i remember you
the best.

some babies never get to be born.
and some mothers fade away
well before their time.

but it doesn't mean i have to accept it.