My Confession

You’re there one minute
And then you’re not.
Gone to the hospital to be
Poked and prodded,
Hooked up to machines that
Should help.
You eight-year-old daughter
Didn’t know what was going on.
All she could think about was that
Little red bear you got as a present.
Your naïve eight-year-old daughter thought
You were coming home again the second time.
Waiting outside your door, the doctor comes out
And said, “She’s gone, I’m sorry”.
It didn’t register in your naïve little daughter’s
Mind, all she said was “Can I have Cuddly now?”
She didn’t cry at your funeral,
No tears at all.
Looked at you and thought you were sleeping.
Now at least ten years later,
That same daughter cannot remember her
Mother’s face, only these confessions written
Out here for the world to read.
I’ve cried for you now Mommy,
The paper on which I’m writing
These words is wet with my tears.
I wish you were here Mommy
I miss you.