On Seventh Day

For Conor...


On Seventh Day
By Terri Lynn Cummings


A darkened sky on a cold, windy day,
Seemed to foretell the shadowy play.
Weary and sick for days on end,
The date was too early for you to attend.
Fighting to keep you safely inside,
Your shining spirit was surging, untried.

On seventh day, the month of thanksgiving,
Your soul began its discovery of living.
Forging ahead with a meager cry,
Your birth was witnessed by earth and sky.
Ignoring predictions, existence was spared,
To show us the beauty of your life, impaired.

Mischievous smiles erased expectations,
Of typical skills and early foundations.
Deep wisdom earned beyond your years,
Fostered acceptance among your peers.
A passion for trains, expressions of joy,
Each day lived fully by our special boy.

Fifteen years, flown high on the winds,
Your life was full of family and friends.
Teachers, doctors, neighbors and strangers,
Embraced you with their smiles and favors.
Wordless expressions told all that you cared,
To thank them, while you had time to prepare.

On seventh day, the month of spring showers,
Your soul was born within heavenly bowers.
The glorious price of living was paid,
While your charming laugh will forever persuade -
The angels to play with toy trains that will roll
Over bridges, joining our thoughts to your soul.