No decorations to hang on your curtains or walls,
No shopping for some comfy clothes you can caress,
No finding another doll or teddy bear for you to hug,
No sharing of an ice cream or some sips of coffee.

No putting cream on your hands or fixing your nails,
No combing your thin, white hair soft as a bunny’s belly,
No singing in your ear hoping it may spark a memory,
No telling you about the loved ones I saw or heard from this week.

No carrying a large bag full of grooming aids and small toys,
No looking into your beautiful eyes for a spark or recognition,
No hoping that you may try to talk today, to tell me a story in your own way,
No hope to hear you call me your “neniño” once more.

No kiss goodbye, no three-hour trip back home,
No Holy Mother by your bedside table, no Lord’s Prayer and Hail Maries,
No little Christmas wreath hung by your window,
No reading you my last Christmas card and showing you the pictures.

Your little gang of stuffed animals and baby dolls lie in a box,
Don’t have the heart to give them away, my last memory of you,
Now you play with little angels as dad watches lovingly, shaking his head,
God how I pray you now know me again, beloved mom, but not my loneliness.