Born Still January 22, 1998


I am drawn quietly to her grave to check on her,

Just as I'd have been drawn quietly to her crib.

I trim the grass around her marker,

And dream of trimming the bangs from her forehead.

I place the flowers in her vase,

And dream of placing ribbons in her hair.

I hold her memory dear to my heart,

As I dream of holding her in my arms.

Author Unknown

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