He lays there so peacful,
In that little wooden box,
Not a scratch or brusie in sight,
Looking down at his little form,
I think of all the things in life he'll miss,
Growing up to be big and strong,
Football, girls, his first kiss,
Making new friends, finding love,
Maybe someday having kids of his very own,
He'll miss having a mothers tender love,
And bothering his big sis,
Looking down at my baby boy,
A single lone tear,
Slips down my cheek,
I try to stay strong,
For the sake of my other little ones,
But instead I fall to my knees,
And break down and cry,
My little boy is gone,
All because some car,
Did'nt stop at the sign,
Then left him in the street,
Leaving him to suffer all alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem