The faint and hushed sounds of the bedroom clock
Was all I heard while in my thinking spot
I dreamed that Father would return and knock
But I knew that these dreams would come to naught
I wondered if Son echoed through his brain
Or if he even remembered my name
If my needs pounded him like heavy rain
Or if my existence brought him deep shame
I sat and pondered how it must have felt
As father walked away from his newborn
If my vehement cries caused him to melt
Or if his countenance showed only scorn
But I sat in confusion, not in pain
Love is not lost, if it is never gained