Their hands are soft in mine,
Their smiles speak to me as a sign.
Living a childhood ruled by fears,
Playing with tubes tucked behind their ears.
Mom is holding back tears in her eyes,
As she talks to him with sugar coated lies
Baby, you'll feel better tomorrow.
Tells herself this is temporary sorrow.
Tortured skin covered in scars,
Needles become their toy cars.
And yet they manage to somehow smile,
Sickness takes a break for a while.
Ferris wheels, imaginary fairs,
A made-up world, not a care.
Everyone is capable of spreading joy,
Even the vanishing little boy.
His hands are cold in mine,
His eyes are shut but I remember their shine.
I think of your swollen cheeks, your broken smile,
Thank you, for you have made my life worthwhile.
Share This Poem