Miscarriage

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Abstract

ck up a dirt clod and heave it, missing the squirrel and hitting the wood shed. Tears stain her cheeks. I weave my fingers through strands of her long brown hair and pull her against my chest. Her breath washes the dirty smudges from my face. I kiss away the tears. Her fingers pick lint from my flannel shirt. Nearby a family of deer graze. The sun burns away the mist and brightens our hearts.</p><figure id="0857"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*3Kf8C2mDaa7fAnBLc8aR9g.jpeg"><figcaption>Photo from Canva</figcaption></figure><p id="3b7f">Copyright © 2020 by Harle

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y King</p><p id="ee10">If you liked this poem, consider reading:</p><div id="892a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-child-995fec1fdc81"> <div> <div> <h2>The Child</h2> <div><h3>Narrative Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*mb23kS1-gCwFr1jzcGH8qw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Miscarriage

A Poem

A pale sun bleeds through the autumn mist. The smell of burning leaves tickles my nostrils. Time pauses briefly and inhales a whiff. She stands at the edge of the garden, gazing into the future when this moment will be a memory. I search for the right words to ease the doubt that clouds her thoughts. A squirrel chatters as it jumps from limb to limb of an oak tree. I pick up a dirt clod and heave it, missing the squirrel and hitting the wood shed. Tears stain her cheeks. I weave my fingers through strands of her long brown hair and pull her against my chest. Her breath washes the dirty smudges from my face. I kiss away the tears. Her fingers pick lint from my flannel shirt. Nearby a family of deer graze. The sun burns away the mist and brightens our hearts.

Photo from Canva

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