it's that you are absent
you should be here
your smile
what you might say
i walk incomplete
my loss is greater
each day that i am deprived of you
i mourn every would-be milestone
in my mind you are two years and three months old right now
i know i am missing-out on a lot
like putting bows in your thin brown hair
next year, at about this time, i'd teach you how to write your name
but i'll save those tears for then
today i'll cry about bows
