For My Lost Little Ones For My Lost Little Ones by Linda P. Adams Poetry written after I experienced two miscarriages, one at eight weeks and the other, a tiny boy, at sixteen weeks. We hold one another in tears Of sorrow. The empty cardboard box Mocks us by its very presence We fill it. Never smile for us or ask us for his First bicycle. As another We hold each other with empty arms Our unspoken thoughts only fears Of tomorrow.
Small comfort lies in things as yet unknown.
It has been a long voyage. I have waited for this moment For eternities. I have finally arrived. I call my home. I stretch my new-formed limbs Listening to the strange, muted noises That greet my ears as I wait.