Stacie Sherman

From my seat downstairs,

I can hear her cry,

As she lies in her bed,

I don’t know why.

Week after week

I search for a clue,

Maybe it’s cramps,

Maybe the flu.

Doctor after doctor,

Probes and prods her.

Maybe it’s a toothache,

Or she stubbed her toe,

Maybe it’s a headache,

What the hell do I know.

Today it was her tummy,

Or so I thought

Another morning at the doctor

It’s all a crap shot

I rub her back,

Her belly, her hair,

I kiss her cheek,

It’s so hard to bear.

I may find the answer,

Chances are I won’t,

Her cries may go away.

Chances are they don’t.