That silent beating…

There were times when he was young that I would stand at the door of his room and listen to both my boys sleep.
And there were times when I held him high…
And when I held him close
And put my head against his small chest to hear the beats of that tiny heart.
And to know now that that sound is missing from this earth
That the world is absent that solid rhythm
Is much more than any father should bear
And yet I bear that silence.
There are times now when I stand at the door of an empty room
And I listen to the silence
And times when I hold my empty arms high
And hold my head against the empty sky
And listen for the sound.

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