This Heat Gets to Me.

I promised, once,
that I'd never leave her completely.
She never knew I made it,
but I find it's one I'm keeping.

I recieved a toy for her,
the day I knew she was gone.
After she was buried,
to the toy, I held on.

It's the only way to feel her,
without standing on a grave.
For the toy, I'm grateful,
as the heat drips off my face.

I wish I could hold her,
or rock her to bed....
Still, atleast I have something,
and it's the promise I kept.