Loss.

A tiny miracle that grew within her,

Nursed with all the love and care she could muster

Arrived earlier than anticipated on a monsoon night,

Yet she knew, it did not feel right.

A little too soon, they told her and whisked the little one away.

Amidst beeping monitors and mangled wires he lay.

While artificial warmth and breathing tubes were applied,

Out of the comfort of her womb, he struggled to cope with the outside.

One evening, he forgot to take his breath,

They say when you're born to soon, that's bound to occur,

As he was hooked on to a bigger machine in a blur,

Perhaps she realized he was inching closer to death.

She prayed for his strength, a tiny miracle,

But to aid his breath, his lungs were atypical.

They said they tried, with all the clinical care they could provide,

But none could hold back as the young mother cried.