Member Poem

In dreams, I see your little face once more,
Bright brown eyes alive with trusting light.
Your soft mews echo, a tender, fleeting balm,
And your purr lulls my heart into warmth again.

But dreams fracture; shadows flood the peace,
A cold December night claws at my mind.
A cry for help, your frail frame in my arms,
Breath hitching, blood stealing what should be yours.
One final gasp, and your body stills,
A patchwork coat soaked in my falling tears.

They said no cure could halt the silent thief,
A spectre’s grip that stole you far too soon.
At five, you lay beneath the sterile lights,
My girl, robbed by death’s unyielding hand.

I wake to sobs, swallowed by the dark,
Guilt’s sharp whispers echo in my ears:
If only I had seen, if only I had known,
Perhaps the pain could have been spared.

Now, your ashes rest in a mahogany tomb,
A fragile monument to love undone.
I hear the words, a ghost of melody.
What can make me feel this way?

My girl.