Thursday, September 16, 2010

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

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