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about this poem....

This poem was very hard for me to write. It's about Michael, my brother, who at the tender age of ten days died through upper resperatory complications. He was premature and his lungs hadn't formed yet,and in 1974, medicine wasn't like it is now. I grew up an only child for I don't think my mother was able to have any more children after that.

I hope that by reading this, some of you stop and think about your sisters or brothers and call them up out of the blue every once in a while, just to tell them that you love them...

Breathe

by
Christopher J. Thomasson

To Michael…

Breathe,
It’s not your day to die. Yesterday you were born, Tomorrow you will live, If you’d just breathe, breathe.

Breathe,
Don’t rely on the machine.
Do it on your own,
Two days you’ve lived
Inhale, exhale, breathe, breathe.

Breathe,
I need you here with me,
My brother, my friend,
I need you, I need you.
Breathe.

Breathe,
Ten days you’ve lived,
And suffered great
I know you must go,
But let you I wont.

Breathe,
I’ll keep you in my memory,
And say your name to the stars,
Breathe little brother, breathe.
Take you last breath.

BREATHE…
Breathe…
breathe…
……

The End

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