You were remembered in the prayers at church today
I wasn’t there to hear it
I was at home with your little brother
Who wouldn’t be here if you were
I wanted a little summer girl
I got a winter boy
You’re supposed to be 7 months old
He’s a week today
It feels selfish to cry in my pillow
when he’s lying beside me in bed
I wouldn’t chose you over him
But I can’t be glad you’re dead
There’s tears on his head while I’m nursing
I hope he doesn’t mind
There’s ice on the apple tree above you
But you don’t feel the cold
I wait to hold you in heaven
While I hold my son down here
Someday I’ll hold you both
Till then
