When the morning sun gets in my eyes
I can almost see your hidden face.
When the evening winds blow fiercely
I feel the strength of your embrace.

When an autumn breeze becomes a whisper
I can almost hear you quietly speak.
When the snow falls from a winter sky
I feel your touch upon my cheek.

When the starlight casts a shadow
I can almost see your spirit drift.
When the rain in summer trickles down
I taste your kiss upon my lips.

When the flowers in the springtime bloom
I can almost smell your faded scent.
But... where the mountains touch the sky
My heart knows the place you went.

© 2008 - Christine Ross

A CHILD I DIDN'T KNOW

~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

In a worn and tattered graveyard
From a long, long time ago
I stumbled on a tiny grave
Of a child I didn't know.

The name was peeled and faded.
This baby's days were very few.
I felt such sorrow for this child
That I never even knew.

I sensed the pain the parents had
When they laid their child to rest.
They stood there in that very spot,
Wondering if they did their best.

Children shouldn't be forgotten
In this place that death bestowed,
So I placed a rose upon the grave
Of a child I didn't know.

I walked a little further to
The grave of another child
Whose years were short upon this earth,
And I paused there for awhile.

I then fell reverent to my knees
While my tears began to flow.
As I placed a rose upon the grave
Of a child I didn't know.

I wandered through the headstones
Of more children, young and old.
Whose lives were taken much too soon.
With their stories left untold.

An eerie chill swept through me
As timeless winds began to blow,
While I placed a rose upon the grave
Of a child I didn't know.

I looked back as I was leaving
Through this gate of ageless grief.
Evening shadows lingered where
They once stood in disbelief.

Someone may think of my child
In a hundred years or so
When they place a rose upon the grave
Of a child they didn't know.

© 2008 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

THE PHOTOGRAPH

He stood there in the chapel
As he clutched the photograph.
No words were spoken from his lips
All he could do was gasp.

He held the photo to his chest
As tears streamed down his face
Hoping for a miracle
In that "forever goodbye" place.

He glanced down at the photo.
Then a tear fell from his eye
And landed right upon the heart
Of his child that had to die.

No one understood the pain
This grieving father felt.
So they hugged him and his photograph
Not knowing how to help.

This photograph seemed magical
And helped him to understand
That for his child... this one last time
He had to be a man.

So he stood up proud and tall that day
And listened as they spoke
About the life of his child
He still needed in that photo.

He held on to that photograph
Through painful days and weeks.
But finally had to let it go
And let it rest in peace.

Just a stained and wrinkled photograph
Although much more than it seemed
It gave him strength to bear the pain
Never dreamed in his worst of dreams.

This cherished tearstained photograph
Is now a testament to us all
That tears can touch the silenced heart
Of a grieving father's child.

© 2008 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001