In that tiny coffin she lay asleep
Wreathed in flowers red and white.
Her cheek and chin far fairer.
An angel dressed up for the fair.
Plaited hair, ribboned above
In chequered uniform came her friends
The crowd slowly moved away,
Making room for a glance.
In the corner mamma stood alone
Angry that she let her child out
into the depths of freezing waters
from the warmth of her womb.
In twos and threes they came
Into hundreds and thousands they grew
"Switch on the fan" She heard them say
For sweat was dripping down the spine.
Panicky, she turned her gaze
To the queen of her dreams
In her flimsy little gown, Gosh!
Sandra was shivering.
The tiny little hands,
In a flash back she saw
Twining around her mamma's waist
Sandra, she knew dreaded December.
"Children should grow up
Braving the sun and shower"
Sandra's papa would chide
For mamma never let her out.
Slowly she moved
Her hands clasped behind
Near her baby she paused
To slide back the curly lock
"Wrap her please, " she whispered
Unfolding a baby blanket
"Sandra will catch a cold, you know.
And miss her exams tomorrow."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Losing a child at such a tender age is more than a mother can bear! The unanticipated and sudden tragedy has naturally upset her mental balance! The severe shock has left her delirious..... A touching write! A sure 10