I’ve loved you in your mother’s womb.
Now you lie in death’s tomb.
Even though you never had a first breath, your existence is forever held my heart.
You would have been my master piece to the world, an exquisite piece of art.

God denied you life.
What little memories I have will suffice.
While in your mother’s belly I’m grateful for every kick I felt.
I use to laugh at how the both of you use to eat bowls of ice before they melt.

We would have:
Dance between raindrops and hold victories against the Easter bunny in hop scotch.
Have conversations with the moon and challenge a kangaroo to a game of double Dutch.
Battle pirates on sinking ships and wait for shooting stars to make a wish.
Bottle candle flies on a midsummer’s night and go a finger race with a goldfish.

Be predator stalking its prey and sentry a trap of milk and cookies.
Fall asleep on the stake out waiting for “Santy Claus”, have him think we are rookies.
Express justification to failure “Damn that Santa, he’s so tricky!”
Form a resolution and have ambition that next year he won’t be so lucky.

Be architects at the beach, erect castles of sand.
Be masters of creating mess, paint with no brush just hands
Stage political protests till your mother give in to our demands.
Be bosses that we are, we don’t take orders we give commands.

I would have been the best father.
But god didn’t give me the chance to be the number 1 dad.
I hope you know your daddy loves and still waits for you.
I love you Bryn!