LITTLE BOY BLUE

This poem is about my baby brother who we never got to know, as he was stillborn.

Before your birth we revelled
at thoughts of being big sisters.

I knew you'd be a boy
and named you Patrick.

On lazy summers we'd parade you
in the park.

On toddler-tantrum days
you might trash our rooms.

We'd get mad but melt at those
eyes of baby-blue.

And your eyes were blue.
Blue as the hue of sea and sky.

But you were still.
Mother's blood had made you blue.

"He's perfect though" Father said.

We didn't see you

They thought it best.

There was no funeral

No grave nor plaque.

Nothing.

.