Rosina’s baby sister died.
The cot stood empty
in the darkened room.

Don’t go in there
her mother said.
Rosina opened the door

and peered through
the gap instead.
The toys were still there

by the pink pillow and cover.
Leave the room alone
said her grieving mother.

Moonlight shone upon
the place where baby sister
once turned her face

and smiled or made
her baby noise.
Quiet now the room.

Unplayed with
the idle toys.
Mother cried at night

and often in the day
and stared through
the window at the far off bay.

Father was away
in some distant war
keeping his head down

in some foreign land.
Rosina’s baby sister
was buried deep

beneath the ground
in a small white coffin
dressed in a ghostly shroud

with songs sung sadly
and tears in the crowd.
Rosina peered through

the gap of the door
at the cot
and moonlight’s glow.

She’s seen her baby sister’s
ghostly smile
but mother doesn’t know.