ten little fingers, ten little toes.

happy chitters and kisses from a wet nose.

your bowl of of food is half full, waiting for your return.

your running wheel is at a complete stand still.

the walls in the house are silent, absent of your calls.

and i still can't help but remember every memory - leaving none out at all.

i remember the way you looked at me on that first drive home.

i remember the way you curled into my neck to sleep when i promised you'd never be alone.

i remember your first bath, your first cry and your first laugh.

and, as i held you in my arms as you took that deep breathe, i never imagined it would be your last.

i remember you running to play with me when you were ready to have some fun.

i remember the midnight wake up calls as i heard you get on your wheel and run.

i remember how it felt with your warmth pressed against my chest.

and, if i'm being honest, i loved you more than i could've ever expressed.

i'm sitting on top of the ottoman that you hollowed out to make your den, half convinced i'm still going to see you pause at the doorframe before sauntering in.

i wish i could tell you i love you, to kiss you one last time.

but i know that you're at peace now, having found your rest and when i see you on the other side of that rainbow bridge i'll make up for the lifetime we missed.

you were given six months in this world - with us only four.

i know it's selfish but i begged the universe for more.

more time to love you, to see you change and watch you grow.

more time to have you, to hold you closer because we weren't ready to let you go.

you will always be my baby, forever carried in my heart. and, even though we're separated by that invisible barrier, i know we'll never be apart.