I wait patiently while you are sleeping,
in this silent place.
A tiny mound of crumpled sheets,
that frame your pretty face.
No movement now, except the clock,
that beats against the wall.
I focus on your steady chest,
its gentle rise and fall.
My dear, sweet child.
I sit in stillness night and day,
And at your side I wait with hope,
I've nothing but to stay.
No noisy toys, no busy children.
The chaos put on hold.
My helpless hands are empty,
as I watch our lives unfold.
Nothing now, but waiting.
No visitors, nowhere to go.
I watch a raven through the glass,
but cannot hear him crow.
What does it mean to be a mother?
To check the box marked 'Next of Kin'?
To share her wide-eyed terror
as a needle pricks her skin?
I press her tears against my chest,
while recent memories linger.
I kiss her sweaty fevered brow,
and count each precious finger.
Dear Charlotte, please don't leave me,
there's so much still to do.
My brave facade would fall apart,
at the thought of loosing you.