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by s.e.
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1285062
The inspiration is from a short walk in a DC cemetary so lovingly named 'Baby Land'
Wind circles high atop Baby Land
as I and my husband walk hand in hand
Up flowered hills
then down the steep steps,
Across dotted fields of filled and void depths,
To our sweet child's grave,
we stand and we gaze
our minds filled with sorrow and of more joyful days,
When Cassie's sweet cry filled every room-
Before fate intervened and delivered his doom.
I sigh as a butterfly graces the stone
of one little girl who did not die alone.
For this is the place where we, too, reside-
Just across the road, we lie side by side.
And, on occasion, we walk this short walk,
to a child who was taken before she could talk.
Silenced by cold metal and shattering glass-
On a cold rainy night when all three of us passed.
But, not to 'the other side' did we roam,
But, rather to Baby Land-
Our sweet Cassie's home.
© Copyright 2007 s.e. (s.e.wilson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1285062-Baby-Land