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A barren pillow graces an empty bed
where you once laid your pretty little head.
I can hear the pitter patter of your feet
when I stare at that imprint in your sheet
The pain of this loss is more than I can take,
knowing when dawn comes, I'll have no child to wake.
When morning arrives, all I have left to greet,
is your empty bed and your crumpled sheet.
You would be here safe in your bed tonight,
if we had never gotten into that fight.
You would have never run into the pouring rain,
and I would not have heard you scream out in pain.
You would be here tonight saying your prayers,
and bounding happily up and down those stairs.
You would be laughing and going on and on
about some rock concert on the telephone
You'd be hanging at the mall with your crowd,
and playing your new jam box way too loud.
You’d still be working in the shop downtown,
and walk across the stage in your cap and gown.
I sit and wonder if you ever knew,
just how much love, I really felt for you.
The last words we screamed in a fit of rage,
stripped future pictures from the album page.
I called you a liar, when you swore the truth.
You said I was a bitch . . . heartless and uncouth.
The words I should have said would come too late,
because you would leave this world, filled with hate.
I slapped you hard across your tender face,
and watched you flee in shame and disgrace.
When you ran out that night and slammed the door;
our lives would be changed forever more.
Sometimes I imagine it’s only a dream,
but I can't drown out the sound of your scream,
or squealing tires of that car with one headlight,
that ran you down that rainy December night.
So many things I should have told you each day,
but I let precious moments slip away.
So many times I could have given you a hug,
instead of a cold shoulder and a shrug.
Now, I sit and stare at your empty bed,
where my darling daughter once laid her head
If I would of shown you more patience and love.
You wouldn't be sleeping in Heaven above.
This poem is based on a true story, that teenage girl was my fourth cousin. She was fifteen. I would not have posted this poem, but I did so for a very special reason for a special someone, in hopes it may help her. Parents, please tell your children you love them today and everyday, tomorrow maybe too late. We always assume they know, but truth is they don't. If you read this, give your child a hug right now, and say I love you and I accept you for who you are. Don't let another precious moment slip away. Make everyone count and treat it like it was your last, because it could be. (Actions speak a million times louder than words and words hurt a million times more than actions.]
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