Infants Remembered In Silence (IRIS) - Poems

Our Almost Baby Days

By Debbie Dickinson

Standing alone in their room,
I listen to the silence.
Three babies.
Three deaths.
Three times a Nursery
that will never be
filled with laughter
or impatient tears.

The Nursery lies empty
of all that I’d hoped it would be.
”Next times” came and went,
leaving me with no more
tears to be spent.

Our “next times” are over.
Their room is now
the Guest Room
a temporary room
for temporary stays.
Snoopy and his friends
have gone to live
in another place.
Gone are our almost baby days.

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