Rosary of Tears

In the moonlight she stood beside his tiny bed, looking down in tenderness on ringleted head-- Her little boy softly cradled in dream filled sleep. What dreams were these? Into that land she wished to creep and join the playtime he enjoyed with skipping sheep. Around his form she drew the sheet and kissed his face then tiptoed out and down the hall to her own place where in her own mother dreams she would sweetly trace her darling child who filled her loving heart with joy. She did not stir; one tiny sigh was all her boy released as guarding wings swept by the little toys; an angel leaning softly down lifted her heart her pride, her joy and those white wings did upward start, wide spread, cleaving the air for heaven's rampart, leaving only the imprint of his childish form. Baptized with grief the sheets that bear his baby form; her empty hands trace the outline of a cruciform, a rosary of tears she wears till heaven calls. Copyright, July 4, 2016