I Want To Turn The Clock Back.


I want to turn the clock back … to before you went away,

To get the chance to tell you, and beg of you to stay.

I want to turn the clock, to face against the wall

To hope that the sickle, this time, fails to fall.


I would cradle your tiny body and together we would sleep,

Beneath a comfy blanket with booties on your feet.

You would recognise me by the noises that I make,

The songs I’d be singing while I baked for you a cake.


The house would fill with laughter as I introduced to you,

A sister and two brothers, who would be in love with you.

They’d fight to let me hold you, and smother youΒ in love,

You would have fitted in this family, like a hand into a glove.


But clocks don’t go backwards, time refuses to stand still,

Mothers can’t make it happen, we haven’t got free will.

If we did, we would have held you and never let you go,

But you got taken to a corner, of time we’ve yet to know.


The sun keeps on shining, as does the falling rain,

The sunflowers still blossom, though it’s not the same.

Growing up a family, with your missing name,

Is like gazing at a sunflower … through a broken pane.


Today, a long past memory was jogged, a never forgotten moment recalled and tears were shed; but all is just as it should be.


49 thoughts on “I Want To Turn The Clock Back.

  1. My mother-in-law’s fourth baby died of a cot death aged 4 months. She still never speaks his name 63 years later, never went to his funeral, and has never visited his grave. I suppose that’s the only way she copes with her loss. Sam’s eldest sister, 8 years older, remembers when it happened and told us all about it, otherwise Sam would never have known he had a brother. This poem reminded me of the time nearly 40 years’ ago when we found his grave.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Good morning Ellen. Thank you for this heartfelt poem. Raw emotion put into words. I think and know so many mothers in this situation. I feel for each one and unable to comprehend, as I never went through this myself, what these mothers had to endure. Once again, thank you for sharing my friend. Blessings and thinking of you as well. I RT

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A beautiful poem Ellen. Those last two lines got me. I miscarried in 1996, but it was so eaarly it didn’t seem real, but sometimes I sit and wonder.
    I am sorry for your loss but think your poem is wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Time alows you to heal and it also anchors the time it happened … therefore never quite allowing it to be gone. A loss is a loss and can be traumatic and I am sorry for your experience too. Though I believe what happens teaches us humility and empathy. It used to be you did not know you were pregnant until three months. Now we can know at day two … so lots more people are recognising a misscariage because they knew so early. When during my era, people would think they had a bad period because they did not know. I had four miscarriages (after three months) but the still birth stays with you like a tiny shaddow. Thanks for reading and certainly for your lovely comments. πŸ’œ


  4. One of my favorites. Don’t ever become wasted talent. I hope you strive with your gift as ones like me are fortunate to read this. You speak a beautiful pain.sad, lovely and I’m thinking is true. My soft spot goes out to you.


  5. I’m so sorry for this. This sounds like it was an extremely hard thing to get through. I don’t have kids so I don’t exactly but I know my Mom and Dad lost a baby for me and immediately wanted another because of the loss of the first. Well written poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I have never before wanted to put pen to paper on this subject. After I had finished I knew it was the right thing for me. Cathartic to say the least. I am pleased you came, thank you.


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