My Joy, My Footballer, My Doctor, My Boy

Inspired by an article about miscarrying in a magazine.

Where did you go?

You were supposed to me my son, my joy

My footballer, my love, my life.

You were going to be my everything, my all.

I was going to dress you in blue, call you

Harry or Thomas or Jack.

Your first word was going to be "mum"

You were going to learn to ride a bike and 

Go to school and

climb Everest, be a doctor, be a footballer

Be anything and everything,

You were going to be so tall,

So handsome, my handsome boy

I feel so empty.

Of all the men I've never met

I love you the most.

Author's Note

Any criticism is welcome! I've never done poetry before.