Through these eyes, blurred with tears
I see what is absent, not what is here
Searching familiar features in every face
Seeking a memory I cannot replace

With these ears that ache for your voice
I hear but don’t listen, there is no choice
Drowned out by my traitor heart still beating
Enveloped by a silent scream never fleeting

I seek out the scent that you may have left
Not sweet funeral wreaths that leave me bereft
Deep in my memory, my sweet baby’s smell
So exquisitely bitter, in the past it must dwell

With these lips that tried to kiss away your pain
I recall how you felt, again and again
Your soft, chubby cheeks all warm and aglow
I must remember these things because you had to go

The longing to sense you knows no relief
With a physical pain that some will call grief
You say you can’t imagine how I feel
For me no imagination, this is real

by Amanda Brooke