A Poem About The Child Who Never Saw His Mother’s Face

 
I felt your hands entwined warmly in mine for the first time
as you closed your eyes
and ascended to the Heavens;
I heard the faint flutter of your wings as you left.
I have no reminiscence of you;
I close my eyes in an attempt to create my own version of your face,
but to no avail;
a face I could remember through tough times,
a face I could remember on Mother’s Day
but instead I hear the sound of your last breath once more.

I sit here motionless, 
tears falling onto the paper as I engrave this poem,
consumed in grief and sorrow,
with a heavy heart I lay the pen down.
I know I'll see your lovely face one day,

we'll hold each other once again, and my tears shall flow no more.