The clock stopped, your heart ceased
at age twenty-three.
I fell to my knees.
“Do hear my plea, Lord.
You’ve been through losing a child;
we both had only one son.
Mine is only twenty-three
please . . . reconsider, take me?”
Eerie silence weaves through trees,
surely He heard me.
With the greatest ease
He replied aloud.
“Dying is not my domain.
It’s of nature . . . like the rain.
Cherish years, those twenty-three
and please do not forsake me.”
Our pain rained, a storm seized . . .
far as I could see.
I rose from my knees,
smiling through old tears.
“Thanks, Lord, for those twenty-three
years I held onto my son.
Sincerely, Lord, thank you
for each and every one.”

Published accompanied with photo of my son, Gregory Douglas Turner, in my book, "A Little Hope" c 2001.