PRECIOUS
Precious are your little feet,
For they never took a step.
Precious are your little lungs,
For they never took a breath.
Precious are your little hands,
And the little lines in them.
Precious is your silky hair,
And precious is your soft skin.
Precious are your little ears,
For they've never heard a sound.
Precious are your little eyes,
For they've never looked around.
Precious is your little heart,
And all of it's love inside.
Precious is your little voice,
Though I have never heard your cry.
Precious are your little lips,
Though I've never seen your smile.
My child, you are so precious to me,
Even just having you for a little while.
In memory of Paul Samuel Gummadi -January 4, 2000-
Written by his mommy, Kumari Gummadi
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Tomorrow, Whenever
You have left our lives void today
Because you are missing from us naturally
Oh--but tomorrow, when it ever comes
Whenever -- this night will end,
Our lives will no longer be void,
For joy will come as the morning light,
As we remember the light you left,
The light of your smile
The light of your laughter
And the light of your soft wet kisses
That were filled with such love
Oh sweet tomorrow -- whenever it comes
Whenever it comes
Whenever it comes
Written in memory of Samantha Dillard,
a child of light,
By Sheila Petite |
A Night In The Past
Vivid thoughts of a night not so distant.
An embrace of helplessness with my lovely bride.
She must surely sense the graveness of the moment
I tremble at her touch.
For an eternity we embrace.
She summons the courage from within.
An inquiry as to our child's fate.
With strength unknown three words cross my lips,
"She passed away,"
She gasps for air.
Our embrace intensifies as though it would crush our bones.
We cling to one another both of us afraid to let go, fearing the unknown.
Not knowing if we possess the courage and strength to carry on.
The girls, where are the girls? We must call our three girls to grace
their young sister with their presence one last time.
Uncontrollable sobbing, as my tears fall upon her soft innocent cheeks,
Touch your sister one last time young child.
She is silent she is still a lifeless body once filled with passion.
See, her body is here but her spirit is gone.
Where did it go?
She is with Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses, she flies with Angels
And dwells with Deity.
She abides in peace in a garden of love.
Mini mouse and teddy bears, her favorite dolls.
A playland of her own to share with all.
Yenoh
By Roger Rowley in memory of Megan
Claire's First Kiss
There is a song called "Last Kiss" that was written by Wayne Cochran and recorded by various artists over the years. It had a recent resurgence of popularity around the time of Claire's birth and death with a version by Pearl Jam. This led me into countless hours of thinking about seeing her again one day. Here is a new verse that I wrote for Mr. Cochran's song...I hope he doesn't mind.
Oh, where or where can my baby be,
The Lord took her away from me.
She's gone to heaven so I've got to be good.
So I can see my baby when I leave...this world.
When they came to me and said that you had died,
I couldn't take it, I broke down and cried.
They brought you in, placed you in my arms;
You were so beautiful, so full of charm.
I held you close, I kissed you our first kiss,
Your lips couldn't feel it, but your soul couldn't miss.
Now you are gone, even though I hold you tight,
I lost my love, my child...that night.
Oh, where oh where can my baby be,
The Lord took her away from me.
She's gone to heaven so I've got to be good.
So I can see my baby when I leave...this world.
It is my belief that the Lord did not and would not have taken Claire's life for any reason. But, since her life on earth was cut short, the Lord most certainly took Claire's soul to heaven.
-- Jim Nibali - Claire's Dad
Two Hours
Written by Blake Firstman in memory of Kyle
Two hours in not enough
Not enough time
To see your smile
And hear your sweet laugh
To know the sound of your voice
Or even your cry
Do you favor your left or right hand?
Two hours is not enough time
For us to teach you
To play catch or ride a bike
To run in a field
Or learn to swim
To see you wonder why
How we can tell you a story
Or play hide and seek
In two short hours
It's not enough time
It's not enough time
To see you raise your hands for a hug
Or carry your asleep from the car
Our hearts are heavy
As we hold you near
Precious boy
As we kiss you
And try to let go
Two hours is not enough
Two hours is not enough.
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Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with dust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
--Oscar Wilde "Requiescat"
With winter tumbling snow
The roses silent
And the water ice,
With trees so barren
That your mind refuses
To picture leaves
And green and even
Blossoms
Can you remember?
Can you feel again
That Spring did come
From Winter,
Every year?
Sascha
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