8 months old, 
the untold joy,
he brought, 
the clothes, 
colours,
presents,
phone calls,
the smiling visits
and the time-off.

Alone, for a few
seconds,
a freak accident,
a stray cord,
left, like a sleeping antelope.

Some tragedies, 
are not bearable,
without a meaning,
through which, 
to read, life itself. 
A few months,
separated us,
said it was rare,
a baby,
caught death,
unfortunately.

Photo by Bastien Jaillot on Unsplash