A song unsung

Way too small, way too light, 
Like a little feather floating against the winds' might. 
Out too soon to face the wrath of the world, 
When rather he'd be in the womb safe and curled. 


Why did he hurry, he doesn't understand 
Impatience maybe, a will to withstand. 
His existence, a question, unanswered remains, 
Striving for life as his faint breathing strains. 


A fleet of white rush trying to revive, letting the air rush in, 
A firm mind, yet a frail heart beating within. 
He squeals and cries realizing his mistake. 
Out too early leaving his life at stake. 


A warm tear falls on him from the soft eyes above, 
A short stint of life, a creation of love, 
In his mothers' arms he drifts into an endless sleep 
Like an unsown seed yet to reap. 


Warm tears trickle down her cheek, 
Slowly making its way right from the peak. 
All her dreams in a moment crashing away, 
Conveying to all what no words could say. 


Her beautiful song remained unsung....