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For Annabelle (fussingly revised, author's note)
by Clara Mae GregoryA spirit preceded its tiny new mold.
It grew within every beat of its heart.
But destined to be without breath of the old,
it was Called to return too soon and depart.
A soul shines over the abode waxing cold
As I peccantly ponder our creator's start,
and woefully wonder who can fit the supreme mold
without having His rhythyms beating our hearts.
04/21/2009 Author's Note: Dedicated to my granddaughter who died 8 and half months in the womb of her mother, my daughter-in-law.
Posted on 04/09/2011
Copyright © 2025 Clara Mae Gregory
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