Too good for this world

 

On a sunny day,

You accepted my invite

To come in nine months.

You came in winter.

The cold was hard and searing.

No sun to dry tears.

 

You were tiny and sickly.

Your breaths in winter, painful.

A bug, he called it.

At spring’s door, you left

Though heartbroken, I knew then

You were better gone.

No more invites sent,

On a sunny day, I died

Alone but happy.

 

 

©Aweni

Image credit: RitaE

via Daily Prompt: Invitation

• Daily prompt
• Death
• Poetry