You never got to know our love,
you just weren't meant to be.
You're tiny little grave was dug,
beneath a small spruce tree.
We saw you're nearly perfect shape,
you're eyes, ears, nose, and lips,
the curves in your small arms and legs,
your tiny fingertips.
We never got to hold you,
or even know your name,
no one would ever know you,
but we loved you just the same.
The only sign you ever lived
is a tiny little mound,
beneath a tree with other graves,
were tear drops stain the ground.
