It was tragic, it was bad
Losing a brother,
Oh, My dear mother!
Dead.Buried.Burnt.
I moan and weep into my shirt.
New baby, who is this?
Guarding my heart, but making a wish
Baby girl, I hope to run with you
Me and you, just us two
Maybe my broken heart will heal
Maybe it will soon unseal
Maybe you will come, and then I can feel
The sun again and laughter within.
Baby girl you won’t replace
But just maybe you can fill, this empty space.
--Abigail P., 3rd-5th Grade