Bringing back the Dead, it can't be done, so here, this poem, becomes both grave and headstone.

You were the first and I wanted you,

But I was young and powerless to keep you.

You whispered to me in my dreams .

You were lovely and kind, slim with brown-hair

and I gave you my favorite name .

I can’t bring the moment back, my final decision,

pressed on me but still in that final moment my own.

I wonder if your father, ever thinks of you like I do,

sometimes weeping the loss of someone so dearly precious,

or were you just a story casually related over dinner.

Michael, I still and will always love you.

I asked you to come back someday, if you could.

Have you? Are you here with me now?

Are you still inside me,

Are you watching from a cloud,

Are you weaving fate together

to finally be born to a better mother

I hope so.

You were the family I always wanted.

I know you better through my son now,

and it makes me grieve for you more,

and love you more as the years bring me closer to you.

I hope to speak with you again, if only to say,

Please, please forgive me, even though I know

that Cronos can never be forgiven.

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