Eyes that never saw light,
Hands that never held another's,
Feet that never ran,
Mouth that never cried,
Lungs that never breathed morning air,
Heart that never beat for another's,
Ears that never heard,
Tongue that never tasted,
Hair never soaked in autumn rain,
Lips that never kissed another's,
Arms that never hugged,
Name that was never called.

All these parts make up her,
But I can't piece them together,
Without first detaching myself,
From an unnamed child.