Left Behind With Love! ! (Parents) Poem by WIN VENTURA

They held us first, when we knew not to speak,
Wiped fevered brows, kissed every hurt cheek.
They starved to feed us, walked barefoot for years,
Laughed when we smiled, swallowed their tears.

They stitched our dreams with tired, trembling hands,
Fought storms of life, just so we could stand.
Built every brick of who we became—
Yet now, we don't even whisper their name.

Old hands now tremble alone in the night,
No hallway laughter, no warm bedside light.
A steel bed replaces their once-shared home,
Where ticking clocks echo—they're alone.

Photos on walls, worn smiles they fake,
Hearts quietly breaking that never could break.
They ask for nothing, still give with a glance,
Just hoping—one more loving chance.

Yet children forget what eyes once knew—
That love is not money, not 'what I do.'
It's showing up. It's holding tight.
It's being there in their fading light.

So if you read this, and feel even a tear,
Go to them now. Before they're not here.
Because the hands that raised you... won't always wait.
And regret, my dear—always comes late.

✍🏽By: - WIN VENTURA