Consulting doctors may have added "few"
When your body failed its true or false test,
But you sang in your Southern Baptist pew
With visions of a baby girl grown old.
"No," said you to the staving off, retold
As therapy to slow the virulence.
Briona, Dearest, some will read and wince
At this poem, one you shall never hear,
The wonder of which you shall never see.
She was two pounds and ounces of power,
Born from your courage, and so I've been told,
A comatose tear.