Steven John ThwaiteApril 1988 - October 1988

I went to the Doctors,” Pregnant” he said “Are you keeping the baby?” No doubts in my head I wanted my baby, “but you’re only sixteen” I told both my parents, they weren’t all that keen It was really amazing, feeling you grow You kicking inside me, the towing and fro The labour was early, the baby was fine I’d watch you for hours, couldn’t believe you were mine The perfect baby, you’d feed and you’d sleep For hours and hours with never a peep Your smile was contagious, and a smell of your own Your laugh was infectious; I was proud how you’d grown One day you were sleeping, and got stolen you away I tried to revive you, “come on son please stay” I’m sorry I failed you, I couldn’t I tried I did all I could, not enough though, you died. My Little boy, what can I say? I’m incomplete, since you went away. I miss your smile, your laugh, your smell. I hope someday, to get to know you well.

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