We are lying in bed,
sleep still in my eyes.
I'm between dreams and full cognition.
His hand in my hand.
His lips to my ear.
I listened as he whispered,
sweet nothings, so dear.

I stretched and recalled,
countless, glorious mornings such as this.
I silently whispered a thank you,
For, we had been truly blessed.

With a home, so full of cheer.
Our bellies empty, we never feared.
We were not quite in our golden years,
yet, we were surrounded by youth.

I reluctantly shook off the marvel of it all.
Could've stayed in the state of love's free-fall.
Still, as the last dregs of slumber passed,
and, my reality vacated the haze,
my bed-mate's message didn't match
the expression on his face.

My dream-like state was now melding
into shock and awe.
A paralyzing force that I could
not reckon with at all.
The overwhelming power,
rapidly destroying my strength to
fight.
My mind screamed run from this plight.

As if the rumble on a battlefield had ceased
and the incessant woes had died,
my mind caught up with my hearing.
And, I heard war of the world, as he cried.

He hadn't been whispering sweet nothings.
His message was blatant and bloody.
A definitive four-word sentence.
Merely, fourteen letters of the syllabary.

Simply, letters that are found in alphabet soup.
These letters alone did not harm.
If arranged in a different group,
could bring abundant joy, not unarm.

Yet, the four-word sentence was:
Our child is dead!
And, this set off an atomic bomb to our familial bonding.
This changed the course we lead,
and, irreparably kept us in longing.
Longing, for the daughter we had.

d. nelson 11/18/2020
©dawnykins59
©GiGi60