Pain of missed pregnancy

"The child lays inside the sterile womb"
Days, months and endless nights go by.
He never wailed.
Cold autumn breeze, death crosses the door:
she quietly sits,
waiting the last beat by her disembowelled womb.
The infant open the eyes for the first time,
stares at her, pale.
A sweet smirk appears and he giggles.
Kneeling, Death holds the little creature between her cold arms,
Like a mom kisses his forehead,
cradling him tenderly in her arms.
The child is asleep, it's night now. He sleeps.
She wraps the newborn in rags and her long pitch black hair,
Tightly she holds him, as if he was always meant to be hers,
Pale is the infant, he'll never make a sound.
The folks weep, scream,
the bells of the church are ringing,
" pale, the infant, smiles in his sleep one last time. "