Although I'm not allowed to grieve,
For children I have not conceived;
I wonder if you'll ever know,
This loss of life I cannot show.
As aging takes it's final toll,
I mourn a loss from deep my soul;
She hovers there, amidst my thoughts,
This little child I loved and lost.
Although she comes to me in dreams,
As if in future sight foreseen;
In times of truth, I realize,
That I shall never see her eyes.
Although she never graced my arms,
I yearn for her unknowing charms;
In times of want, I wish her here,
Yet silence follows muted tears.
Although she never had a name,
Somehow her presence still remains;
In times of trial, I wonder why,
We never met ... and softly sigh.
'Twas just a dream that never was,
An empty vessel filled with love;
In times of need, I reach for her,
And yet, alas, 'tis vacant air.
No, I shall never know her name,
And yet, it tugs my heart the same;
For never was it meant to be,
And thus, I mourn this fantasy.