loss
His smiling face brings joy.
Spit up, gurgles,
midnight feedings and diaper changes,
crying jags at 11pm
1am,
3am,
5am.
Bone tired,
exhausted arms and legs,
back aches,
ruining my body.
He smiles when he looks at me.
Every time.
Like I’ve suddenly appeared.
His smiling face brings joy.
And I almost forget to wonder,
what if I hadn’t lost the first one?
Frown. Image by Heather Button. Copyright © http://heatherbutton.com
poetic asides
For this week’s prompt, write a loss poem. If that doesn’t work for you, feel free to write a lost poem. Or write a lost poem filled with loss. Prompts are just sparks; the fire burns where it will. – Robert Lee Brewer