deepundergroundpoetry.com

Missing baby

There's a woman in the doorway
of your baby's room,
she's sweeping up the years, with a scrapbook broom

The window is closed
yet baby's blanket feels so cold,
Now you wish you could but hug
the one you used to hold,

The woman asked for Santa Claus
dressed in Daddy's clothes,
You answered that he never lived
to keep her on her toes,

You asked her where she'd been
she said you ought to know,
She asked you for the time
but your watch was running slow.


April 1979, Revisited June 2012
Written by dfwtinman
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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