I found an old something I wrote after my first child died in a second trimester abortion for the ever sacred "health issue":
Today is like yesterday
and the day before
and so on…
I miss you.
Time lies to me
tries to bleach you from my life…
but I carry your photo in my breast pocket
where no one knows;
you cover my heart.
Silence quells those long ago ripples
that made them all look.
They want to knit a sweater I unraveled.
They try to shine the chrome
to get a reflection from me.
Well i'm gone,
no more of me.
They're missing the forest for the trees.
and I'm missing you...
It doesn't really seem to matter what the reason is when your kid is as aborted and dead as the rest.