Inconsolable

I've loved and lost, then loved again,
but romance is a fleeting thing -
a mother knows there is no pain
to equal what a child can bring
when death seeks out a soul to strip.
My treasure gone eternally!
Lest madness hold me in its grip...
exhibit naught externally.
The scent of babe remains with me -
that tiny hand and trusting gaze!
I die with every memory,
and live with sorrow all my days...