Your summer breeze life--
warm and lovely,
and over too soon--
left relics behind,
treasures,
marking not only what we lost,
but also what we had:
a slim white stick boasts two pink lines,
a startling announcement you were here
pictures from a 6-week ultrasound--
you are tiny and perfect to the eye
the memory of your beating heart,
two short weeks before you died--
tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump,
140 beats per minute
the blue and white blanket,
knit by some kind soul,
cradled your body,
a silver tag proclaims “made for an angel”
photos of your birthday,
your legs crossed and hands clasped,
perfect sukasana pose,
your little face at peace
your ashes,
proving you are gone
and the white crepe myrtle,
a memorial planted beyond my kitchen window
It will bloom in July,
the month of your birth,
and declare that you are,
in fact,
still with us.
--a memorial for Matthew Leif, our beloved gift from God
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