another for that prompt - it "spoke" to me

The Space Reserved

It doesn’t happen very often

In fact, I cannot remember

The last time you, or the possibility

Of you, crossed my mind

But in the way of poetry

And writing and speculating,

Prompts , and the “what if’s”

And “I wonder’s” – I find you

Drifting through my

Consciousness once more

And cannot help but

Imagine you full-grown

You would be an adult

Now – a man, of course

Our only male child as it

Happens – we have daughters

But never did have another

Boy – and while I adore

Our girls and would not

Trade either one for anything

Many’s a time I’ve said

I wished your father

Had had a boy to raise

To be the kind of man he is

That was one of my few regrets

Really – that and the fact

You did not live of course ...

No-one seems to grieve

Miscarriages – but they

Should in fact – for you

Were as real to me as any

Baby as it turned out

Losing you precipitated

One of the worst

Periods of my life

And yet, no-one seemed

To think I had significant

Reason to feel down

Or anything to mourn

Your absence left a hole

I can still feel within my heart

A you-shaped hole,

I finally realized will never

Be filled, nor should it be

It is the space reserved

For you and the memories

We would have made

With you; it’s yours