And stacked up high on a shelf.
Only the softest fabrics would do-
I chose each one myself.
The gowns and the rompers and booties
Are packed away in a box,
next to the bag full of rattles
and teethers and baby blocks.
Your jack-in-the-box isn't working.
No surprises when I turn the crank.
Your baby book is unwritten.
Every page that I turn is still blank.
The crib is dismantled and crated
In the attic, with things we don't use.
Some helpful friend came and did it
As soon as he heard the news.
All of the preparations
And all of the plans we had made,
All of our wishing and wanting,
And all of the prayers that were prayed,
Now are just silent soldiers
That diligently stand guard
Over dreams that have sealed themselves tightly
in a heart that is battered and scarred.
