Sonnet on my First Grandchild born Dead

Never will you smile at me,
Never will you shed a tear,
Never will my face you see,
Never will my voice you hear.

Your little form so perfect
Though infinitely small.
I wish the sun it could reflect
The miracle of life, and call -
You out of coldness bare.

Sonnet on my First Grandchild born Dead

So still, too still, yet -
No sadness will you share,
No heart-ache, pain or fret;
Little unknown, unknowing
Just a glimpse of love bestowing


Sheila Jakobsson