The Grieving Mother

The Grieving Mother

Ashes to ashes,
Stone to stone,
The death of a child,
A mother’s young born.

Looks of sorrow,
Endless despair.
The loss of herself,
When no one is there.

“They took him too soon.”
“I should of been first.”
Words on repeat,
The sound of defeat.

But time passes,
She struggles on,
Shares her story,
And moves on.

But always, oh always!
She carries her child,
In her soul, wherever she goes.

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