You left us on an autumn night,
of naked oak and epiphyte,
the limpness of the maple leaf,
the golden hue of nature's grief,
a mawkish moon that mourned our loss,
the shimmer of an early frost.
We dressed you in your Sunday best,
Communion suit, complete with vest.
Your destination, cold and bleak,
we chose for you the finest teak.
A coffin draped in wreaths and flowers,
we gave You back what once was ours.
Memories motionless in time,
frozen moments in my mind,
laid to rest at eight years old,
my precious child, my lamb, my foal.
A love so deep within my heart,
gouged, in brutal prise apart,
and forced to cope the best I can,
but I'm a weak and mortal man.
How painful then to carry on,
when all my world is dead and gone,
though death will come to all I trust,
to old of age it should come first.
No natural act at Your command,
should take the child before the man,
but You decreed to take my son,
before my time on earth was done,
so all I ask of You this night,
is keep him safe with all Your might,
and help me journey on my way,
till safely back with him one day.