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by Colm Jul 22, 2014
Sadness, depression /
I walked you home, one last time,
we stopped at the gate. I remembered
the tennis games we set up in summer in the yard.
And on down the road where we cycled to school,
where you crashed in the ditch when Murphy's dog chased us.
In no time at all we were at the church.
It seemed as though I was listening to myself listening
to the prayers and hymns. Carrying you out
was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
There was handshakes and stories, a meal
and prayers and drinks. But when I got home
there wasn't you.**
Written for Baby Rainbows club battle challenge
This is heartbreakingly beautiful.