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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #898754
A poem written after my son's passing
Tears on My Pillow
By Jamie Whitten

Tears on my pillow,
Echos in the hall,
Sometimes I hear his laughter,
When no one is there at all.

Sometimes I've heard him in his room.
There sits his empty chair.
Sometimes I hear him sit in it
And then not to see him there.

Tears on my pillow,
The echos from the past,
When God gives you children,
Aren't they supposed to leave this world last?

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