Five pairs of bleary wet eyes
all staring into a tiny neat box.
Looking at Kevin, just lying there
Eyes tight shut and fast asleep.
A teeny teddy and baby trinkets
by his side. Wrapped lovingly and
carefully in small frilly white socks.
Why am I still standing crying so much
and for so long over Kevin. When the
children have long dried their tears,
and set aside their hurt and fears.
Simply because I told them, Kevin is
safe and happy on his favourite wheel,
playing with friends in hamster heaven.
Their first everlasting sad farewell,
and in their childish innocent grief.
I didn’t have the heart after all, I just
couldn’t bring myself to whisper or
to speak, and tell them the truth.
Kevin is not Kevin. He really should
be Goldie, Twinkle, or maybe Ruth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem