by Kristine Neiman
Jared's Mom, stillborn 9-6-95
You were meant to be an October baby, like me...
I returned the Halloween outfit I bought for you.
They asked me if it didn't fit.
You missed your first Christmas.
Instead of hanging up your stocking at home,
I put it on your memorial wreath at your grave.
Santa never knew what you wanted that year.
Spring came...Easter outfits, little bunnies.
Nothing your Daddy would let me put you in.
No basket full of toys and treats from your grandma.
No first time in the pool for you this summer.
Daddy wanted to show you off, his little guy, his son.
No watching the fireworks for the first time together, a family.
Your birthday, without any cake, or candles or presents.
Just a small gathering at your grave, a letter on a balloon.
Did you get it?...I thought I saw you take it,
or do you already know all that I feel?
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